Blackbeak Bluff and she came to troy with a dowry — death

for @Samaantine

grass brown and dead with the frosts and chill of winter crunches beneath his weight a relief from the slushy and wet mess of the melt puddles of slushy remains of snow. taarlok moves with unhurried leisure towards the sound of the waves as they beckon him with each crash against the earth. he stops short as the ground suddenly gives way to a treacherous and abrupt drop off and a glimpse downwards with assessing and sharp mercurial eyes tells taarlok that the rock face straight down is uneven and the spirals that stick out of the waves as they roil and crash against them and the cliff face are sharp like the teeth of some heinous sea beast waiting for it's next meal. as he studies the pockets of entirely secluded beaches — inhabited by seals and sea birds — a large wave rushes the cliff face and he recoils from the edge as the sticky sea brine peppers his face.

taarlok withdraws from the edge, feeling more comfortable with some distance between the deadly drop and his physical body ...not that he distrusts his own balance. still, in this case he feels it's better to be safe than sorry. it appears, he thinks with a soft sigh, that he will have to find another route around because of course now that seafood is denied to him he suddenly has a taste for it. it becomes his temporary apple of eden. not forbidden necessarily but currently out of his reach and his inability to have it only makes him crave it more as it does most things he's denied. he does not approach the cliff's edge again knowing there is no way down from up here and instead heads south of his position in the hopes that he might find a safe path down to a secluded beach below. it feels like a vain hope but taarlok is determined to look, if nothing else.

The shadow's wandering for the day had taken her, ultimately, back towards the scene of her second encounter with her red-cloaked pet. Cold ocean air ruffled through the silken ebony of her pelt, sending a shiver through her as she trekked up towards the cliff's edge. An unfamiliar scent carried on the breeze, strong enough to be near-- near enough to be a bother, Tine realized quickly.
The tiny Messeda paused and cast moss-green eyes all around, sharp and wary suddenly. Only beats later, the culprit came into view. Samaantine's critical gaze swept over the form she saw, but found little to give her reason for the ire she craved. The man was captivating; beautiful in the way one might have a consuming disease. It unsettled her to look at him too long, but she was unable to take her eyes away from the strikingly sculptured features. He glinted like daggers, like flame, and the shadow immediately wanted to possess him.
Tine stood still, ears pushed forward and gaze wide with curiosity-- and she waited. After all, the Messeda girl was not one to give chase if she had any opportunity to first be the one pursued.