Cerulean Cape Settled in, into the pocket of a lighthouse on some rocky socket

Perhaps he would have acknowledged the familiarity of everything gnawing at him had he not been in a haze. He was a ghost roaming a coast that he once had been no stranger to. Now everything seemed lost to him. Most everything. He still could achieve basic tasks that did not require much strain on his still battered body. Granted he would likely never fully heal if he kept up his rogue wanderings, roaming to and fro. Drifting.

Then again, would he have ever gazed upon a figure that seemed familiar in a far away manner if he had not roamed? He couldn't put her in a time or place and maybe he was seeing her for someone she wasn't. Just like he had done with the man upon the mountain.

Yet he yearned for company that seemed gentle and calm, even in a place that seemed so busy — crashing waves, birds cawing, other rambunctious sounds. A deep but weak sound vibrated through his throat into the air. It was pitiful really but he hoped it would be enough to draw her attention.