@spsangryeol

The stillness of the night brought peace to her stormy mind. The shape of the full moon reflected on the vast space, creating a mirrored illusion of the twinkling evening sky. The gentle glow caressed her cheek and she unconsciously pulled the corners of her lips into a quiet smile. The picture of the quiet sea before her left her pining for something she was uncertain of. “What do you want me to do?” She feebly asked the deity who never showed herself nor gave any response except for their celestial effigy to endlessly shine on her.

Her feet dangled carelessly from the docks, a safe distance from letting her fair robes get soaked by saltwater. She received an earful from one of her attendants the last time she had her clothes drenched. A creak disturbed her hushed train of thought. Another presence has arrived to the place she thought would be deserted around this time of night. Seol perceived she was an intruder to the stranger’s nocturnal schedule. She felt the need to speak up, especially when their eyes have already met.

It is not with any great pride that Dal chooses to darken the fisherman’s doorstep for a second time. Indeed, showing up where he had faced failure before is a joyless affair. The seaside winds are stronger than the breezes of the mountains and the scent of salt in the air aggressive. Dal feels he stands out like a aching thumb, pained and as red as his robes all in their boastful scarlets, nor had he managed to act the part of casual visitor even once since he had come flitting about the harbour. Since he had been turned away, his attempts to come asking after a certain someone with whom he had certain issues foiled far more quickly than he had expected, he had taken his time to wait about the harbour, to listen and to hopefully learn from the fisherman at the dock. Listening had, after all, proven more useful than asking. All that had achieved was questions being thrown back his way and it had made him quite cross. Rumour floats about the island like gentle sea-foam and Dal has long believed that he who listens well will soon learn what nobody tells him. Dal waits on his target, standing by the doorway of the hut of a fisherman he’d had to pay to keep him from complaining about it. Granted, he hadn’t so much paid the man as he had shoved the coins into his hand and ordered him to be quiet but Dal is not one to get caught up in the details --- not when it doesn’t suit him to do so, at least.