(Untitled)

[forsaken_bard]

The sea's soft breath caressed his face. The saltwater condensing and running like tears down his face. The feeling of the wind and the lapping of the waves on his bare feet

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[_mother_dearest]

Lyrae watches.

One finger twitches with the tempo of the tune, beat by beat. Perfect. She knows it by heart. The notes hang on the wind, a soft echo.

"Are you coming in, Joar?"

[forsaken_bard]

Joar did not look back at her as he stopped humming with some irritation. His hand pulls his black cloak around her as if the wind had grown chill.

"It is pleasant out here, Mother."

[_mother_dearest]

"It will not stay that way, however," she replies sternly, and it's so easy to slip back, "A storm is on the way."

The music fades.

[forsaken_bard]

He could feel the approaching storm as well, and rather sullenly admitted it. A gust of wind sent his dark hair billowing.

"I know..."

A pause as he glanced over his shoulder.

"But shall we not enjoy it for a time?"