Dragoncrest Cliffs Lo-Fi Listening

For any Rusalkan

In winter, the nights were long and the days were painstakingly short. Even then, the sun might not appear from behind a pale, grey sky. Sunlight was fleeting, and if you did catch a ray it was like finding a piece of gold or buried treasure. Njord had managed to find a sunny spot, on one lucky afternoon.

The islander had arrived in Dragoncrest just the other day with Erzulie. It was a long and hard trip for the foreigner. He was used to swimming, not traveling many miles at a time. Though he had arrived in good spirits and optimistic excitement, he quickly succumbed to weariness and passed out in an old, worn den he had found. In the morning, a puddle of light pooled in front of its opening (maybe why the previous occupant had dug it there), and Njord had scooted out into the rays, curled into a tight ball with his fox red tail covering his nose, dreaming of fish and crabs and sealions.