The sharp scent of salt was always the first thing to hit him when Roland neared the sea, so abrupt and pervasive that it always provoked a grimace on his lips. It was nothing like the pleasant cool breeze that soared over the stretch of sparkling water and swept up rolling hills of sand, nothing like the warmth of the sun upon his skin, or the endless stretch of blue sky, uninterrupted but for a few lingering clouds; instead it reminded him of stormy skies and wind-tossed waves, the heat of fire upon his skin. Try as he might, the Phantom could never shake the memory when he visited the ocean, despite how many years had passed.

A large party had already gathered along the stretch of pale sand when Roland joined them, slipping into their ranks in silence. Ever since his return he had hoped to maintain an inconspicuous presence in attempts to avoid negative attention or nagging questions he could not, or otherwise would not answer, but he had finally begun to relax in the Basin again, and it felt like home in a way that it never had before.

The Phantom observed those already present with guarded curiousity as they scoured the sand and water with diligence, absorbed in scrutiny. The old stallion Roland had seen at their earlier meeting had already retired to the dunes beyond the ocean's reach, making himself comfortable, and of little use, upon the sun-warmed sand. A winged mare soared overhead, riding the thermals with a dizzying confidence that made Roland all the more grateful that his feet were rooted firmly upon the ground, an another had waded deep into the water, a startling number of horns protruding from her flesh.

The heat against his back was a welcome comfort, soaking into his copper skin as Roland made his way towards the water, tracing the oscillating edge of waves as a means of idle amusement. Seashells were anchored within the sand, some buried all except for a corner, while others were spun and tugged this way and that with every rush of water up the gently sloping shore. Their two Thieves were convening not far ahead, the winged mare having dropped from the sky to stand at Rikyn's side. He was close enough to hear their conversation, but did not linger at its edge as an eavesdropper. Instead he gradually drew nearer until he stood just a few paces away, gaze turned upon the dark stallion. Imogen had put into words the very question that had hovered at the tip of Roland's own tongue, and so he added no further inquiries into the mix. The salty breeze toyed with his mane and swept a cool caress across his heated back, offering relief from the hot sun as he waited patiently, in hopes that some light would be shed onto why they had been brought to the ocean's side.