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“Yes, perhaps.” Or something much greater. Thoughts shifted in his mind, theories on Ricochet’s desire. However, there was no way of knowing if he had come to a correct assumption, and he tucked his ideas away for later. The dunskin was an enigma to be solved another day. For now, Rowan would be his focus. She was intrigued by the puzzle that the young stag had presented, but her earlier behavior had shown that something about him had drawn her attention as well. He simply had to gain that attention once more. It should be fairly simple to change the course of conversation back to the two of them.
He was in a quieter mood though, not willing to break the silence quite yet. Instead, his gaze rested on the restless sea. The rhythm of the waves was soothing in a way, erasing old memories that threatened to rise up as he stood with this dark mare. She was similar to the one he was forcing himself to forget, that dancing dark bay minx. The Incendiary had acted as a buffer, allowing him to mull over the secret that was being hinted at rather than dwell on her. What was it about this land that was stirring up memories that he had buried long ago?
Gulls flew over the grayish water, and the flock that was grounded further up the beach were squabbling over something, food more likely than not. He found himself relaxing slightly, the sounds and smells washing over him in a comforting way. ‘Forget,’ the sea sang in a crashing voice. ‘Forget,’ cried the avian life, cawing the word. And he did, even Rowan’s presence fading from his awareness. Lulled by the lullaby nature was crooning, temporarily vulnerable to any who may wish him harm. The cocky façade was slipping, revealing a subdued nature that few ever saw. He found that he didn’t much care. “Nothing ever really lasts, does it?” Unaware that his musing had been spoken aloud.
OOC:
Walking the walk
Talking the talk
Thinking my thoughts
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Ignore the Cold, It's Just a Feeling [Sandman]
