Stavanger Bay but i got one condition

the sea comforts rhaegal, and it is only until he is taking it in, sea wind full of salt and fine grains of sand whipping through the fur at his name, stinging against his muzzle did he realize how much he'd missed it. like an ache in his chest.

but! would vairë have chosen elsewhere, a territory inland to want to start their family: he wouldn't have argued.

he prided himself on being a devoted husband, first. salty seadog second.

he considers, as he watches a seagull lazily ride the waves among its' kin that he needed to start weaving seabrid feathers in his nape fur to symbolize his status as staghusband — though, admittedly, he would need vairë's help with it.

caught in the sea's spell, he does not hear the approach of the stranger, the sand effective in swallowing the sounds of footfalls. the roar of the sea, distracting.

movement out of the corner of his eye snags his attention and rhaegal's head swings in the stranger's direction; golden gaze taking in the stranger staring at him, draped in a coat of red and drysand.

ye ok there, sassenach? rhaegal asks, voice rising above the lulling searoar.