Ankyra Sound the light you stole

In time, there's hints of another familiar scent on the wind, intensifying as the seconds tick by. Her gaze is focused on the waves, and she contemplates taking her own leave before she's addressed; she holds no particular resentment toward the golden male she can only half-picture from their first meeting, but neither had he particularly endeared himself to her, and she has very little desire for company now. Ultimately the sudden weariness in her bones keeps her rooted, stuck in the tar pit of defeat she's created for herself in this spot.
The quiet greeting is a relief, and she's unexpectedly grateful for his company in this moment. Perhaps that will change, but for now, she turns slightly to welcome him with a worn, failing attempt at a smile. Hello, She offers quietly, turning back to her view of the ocean and sitting where the sand is just barely dry, water still licking at the tips of her front toes rhythmically. For her own part, the yearling is quiet, content to allow the sounds of the sea fill the silence between them. There's something comforting about the wordless presence of another; not as comforting, she thinks, as if he were a friend, but she's no stranger to settling.