Stavanger Bay i don't wanna be you

if only dalia knew how often velen had brooded into the waves, wondering how to categorize himself within her world, or she within his. and perhaps lamenting that whatever had risen between them would fade away, or perhaps .... perhaps she would return to faithful, fierce, stalwart ford.
her scent entangled velen like a net long before he saw her, the floral fragrance that usually wreathed the girl enshrined in something far more powerful, something that made his very skin respond. the ceto kept hmself from gaping as he turned to watch dalia approach, but he thrummed uncontrollably with her energy and soon swept to close the distance between them.
indeed, she seemed more radiant to the eye even, if a little distracted. "you're looking well," velen commented with all the smoothness of a cactus plant, helpless and enthralled.