Stavanger Bay you are the night-time terror

written lame on mobile, srysry!

Her ears curled towards him at the leniency of both statements, and when faced with another inquiry of his, her pale face was buoyed from the depths of her memories and into a considering, contemplative look. “It is true that I have, in part, coalesced myself into a pack. It is also true that I am learning my position. Sometimes, there is nothing more I’d want to do than to stay; to do my part, and repay their generosity with what labor I may do, and more. However...”

Her own lips pressed together as if truly weighing his words this time, and case her own gaze to the waves. “I never intended to join a pack. Not when I had just lost him. Yet... although I have not pledged myself, it is more for sanctuary in numbers than loyalty.” A faint grimace worked its way into her velvety maw, recalling Rakk and his... his... Somewhere between her lungs and throat, a low, rather hefty snarl laced her next words. “As with Easthollow, after I’d sought solace from... one with inclinations of our flesh, so do I seek ze sea’s sanctuary. So, when it comes to pledging myself—no, not truly. Until I provide ze sustenance that comes with my trade, I doubt that they would heed any hail of mine. I have always been a drifter... and even when I have only just arrived, I could as easily fade and become forgotten.”

For the first time, a soft exhale wracked her delicate, thin shoulders. “Ze only reason I made for ze shores is because my brother has wanted to see it—as have I. But it was simply an epiphany borne on a flicker of hope. A chance; a risk, too I suppose.” And for the first time, too, she couldn’t bring herself to look back into those spiritless eyes that watched her. The last thing she wanted to impress upon another is that she was reeling back on the waves of some kind of self-pity. So she said: “Since we were birthed, we have only thought about another. And as for myself... I have rarely thought for my own rhyme or reason.”

She gave a light shake of her head, a bit ridiculed as to how naive that sounded. “If I sound...” The words came out halting, tinged with uncertainty; and she ended up holding her tongue, unable to find the right word to express herself. What was wrong with her? Why did she suddenly care for what this depths-behemoth thought of her? What anyone felt or thought of her? Sometimes, she almost wondered how it might be better if she were forgotten altogether. She had never felt twinges of apology before.