Stavanger Bay Don't be afraid if there's no wind in my hair

the ocean's aroma engulfed him, engulfed her, too, when she leaned in, the tassels draping over to make a cooling shelter for her golden form.

lestan. the name touched the rim of his memory. her paramour? he focused.

...yet the words were no less foreign. an effort was made to piece together the story, but that blinded him to the way it was told. the emotion, the pitch and falter in each arrangement of sounds, the clear effort and inability to speak it in the common tongue...

slavuj let the gilded woman's sadness flow through him.

when reverie said her last, he let the silence lengthen. a rumble in his throat grew to a hum, until whispered words made of it a lullaby.

slavuj looked down at the sunshine woman, his smile sad, but sincere.

liek ae downpour, yeaur feelings. tchu great for words. ai unjerstand.

he parted from her, released her. slavuj set his paws on top of reverie's, looking her in the bright eyes. 

rev-ree, ai aem singer, nout speaker, bat ai can saey what's been chruth since di sun was new; all grief, all sadness, it gievs way tchu joy, thcu happiness. every rainschorm comes tchu aen end.

bat, until it paesses, dance in di rain. outcry di clouds, ief yeau must! jest know, ae time comes when sky ies blue again, agly clouds rechreat, aend di soil...

his grin. a memory of a sunspot offspring.

blah-sms.