Sea Lion Shores I see a wreck to windward

For a heartbeat, the beach faded. 

The roar of the domain's beasts hummed to a muffled echo; the crash of waves, the cry of seabirds crackled and hissed into silence like the static of a radio purgatory. The wind whipping her thin coat numbed. 

For but a breath, ocean locked onto forest and they stared. She'd seen many men who shared the same heritage as her father, yet never before had she come across an individual in such direct opposition to she.

If ever there'd been a seaman, it was he: scarred and battleworn, coat wild and wind-whipped like the faded linen of a boat's sails, a treacherous curve to his smirking lips. He was of the water, cerulean and salt-crusted where she was a spirit of the wood, mossy and fog-shrouded. 

They stared, he curiously and she guardedly - rising onto her toes like a bird about to take flight, the fearful voice within cautioning. 

Opaque jade shuttered briefly as she blinked in surprise, not expecting his jaunty invitation. It took a second for Awen to find her voice, a beat for her heart to stop pounding and be swallowed back down her gullet. 

Drawing from the grass, she glided to his side on slow steps - taking a seat aside of him, pale eyes sliding to him curiously yet not quite meeting aquamarine. 

" 'ello," the broken mother chirped wispily by way of greeting, the white whip of her tail swishing a gentle pace. "I'm Awenfen." 

"Awen is fine zough," she offered after, "Fen too."