Blackbeak Bluff dreams of gods and monsters

Of all the women he had the pleasure, and sometimes displeasure, of meeting, Tundra was above them all. Despite the beautiful sight behind her of rushing waters, the power the ocean brought and the sheer sense of insignificance it brought upon all those who gazed out into its vast nothingness - his attention was solely on her. 

Thoughts swam around in his head, back to the conversation he had with Rosalyn of what the season brought and did to all those who listened to its call. How he thought back to Tundra in that very moment, and now, even now as she didn't stink of that familiar scent, did she chose a male this year or was he free to continue dreaming about her being all his? And as she spoke, his daydreams grew wilder. 

At her admittance of his new appearance being more something to admire than not, the perpetually half-grinned man relaxed. Instead of turning his face away to focus on her solely with the 'good' side, he allowed his head to rest in a more comfortable position to view her straight on. You never cease to amaze. The part where skin still lingered twisted to match his right and grinned. He certainly did agree, even Roaslyn's own scars were nothing he saw worthy of cringing but instead to read like a painting. 

Keep this up and I may have to take you home. Being more at ease with his disfigurement, in fact, he had momentarily forgotten all about it as the man couldn't help but tease and flirt in return in his own strange way.