I don't like making titles, you pick one

Sunset draws brilliant colors from the evening sky, pink and purple swirl across the horizon, bashing into the edge of storm clouds forming on the horizon. The battle for the sky reflected back by the restless surface of the sea.

An Elven woman stands on the beach, stripped off armor and packs tossed to the side, she holds a conical gwererest shell up to her ear, concentration etching lines across her face. Slipping off her boots, she drops them in the sand before stepping into the waters edge.  Cool waves wash over the top of her feet wetting the hem of her skirt. There, she stands and waits, whispering into the shell and listening for some sort of reply.

Time passes slowly and tension builds, her body becomes rigid as she glares out at the horizon, hurt and anger lining her features. She charges further out into the water as if attacking the sea, an angry scream ripping from some where deep in her chest as she hurls the shell into the deep water.

Fists flailing and feet kicking she lashes out, pushing forward against the tide, punching and ripping at the air in front of her in a violent dance, a fight against nothing and everything. She throws herself deeper into the water, the waves pushing back as she slams into it, coral cutting her feet as she marches forward, eyes flashing, feeling nothing but rage.

Storm clouds and color battle for the sky above her, lightning flashing in the distance, the rumble of thunder drowned out by the sounds of the sea.  Her strength fades, her flailing arms weaken and she collapses into the unrelenting waves, slipping below the surface. Her lungs feels as if they are on fire, she arches her back and pushes against the water but it only pulls her farther in. The world falls silent, colors muted as the current pulls her deeper, her body relents unable to fight, she watches as the surface fades from view.



Pressure builds against her eyes and her sight changes, blackness creeps into the edges and an odd sense of peace begins to envelope her. Suddenly, there is a tug on her arm, the silhouette of a Prydaen woman passes in front of her and she feels her body being pulled upward.  A bubble of air forms around her head and she gasps, her lungs filling with air. She breaks the surface as the bubble pops, a whisper of a kiss on her cheek.

"Synamon!"

Marching through the water, a Dwarven Paladin slams through the waves, reaching out to pull her into his arms.  Head down and glaring he challenges the sea as if daring it to rise up against him. The water retreats as he carries her to the beach, breath ragged, beard dripping with sea water.

The cool metal of armor presses against her cheek as he carries her across the beach towards a towering wall shield holding her tightly. Reaching up, she touches his cheek with shaking fingers, her hand dropping to his beard where she catches hold of the greying whiskers and drifts off into an exhausted sleep, lines of sadness and hurt fading into calm. Sinking to the ground, he leans back against the shield, keeping her cradled in the safety of his arms. The storm clouds retreat and the stars blink to life in the clear sky above them, watching them as they sleep.

Stars fade as clear morning light heralds in a new day. A warm summer breeze caresses their skin as if nudging them awake.  Synamon stirs, her body aching with the slightest movement. She opens her eyes, puffy from the sea water, and gazes up at the snoring Dwarf. A whispered spell and rutilant sparks of light surround her, easing her aches and pains. Untangling her hand from his beard she traces her finger down his whiskered cheek, his bumps and bruises fading and blooming on her own skin, only to heal moments later.

Grunting sleepily, the Dwarven Paladin opens his eyes.  Pulling her closer he buries his face in her unruly mass of auburn curls. "You smell like fish and seaweed," he mutters into her ear.

"You smell like wet armor and cookies," she retorts with a grin.

Shifting her to the sand next to him he leans back and gazes into her eyes, flashes of worry, anger, relief, and love showing in his face.

"I came to see if she would talk to me."

"You could have drowned.  If I hadn't come," his voice trails off with a shudder.  "Did she?"

"No, I went out and stood and waited but nothing," she says softly, staring out at the sea. "I got so angry I just started screaming, and once I started I couldn't stop.  It was like I was fighting the entire sea, and then I just couldn't anymore."

Nodding, Uthgaar shifts his body against the shield and then pulls her closer to him.

"But, I think she is there," Synamon says with a sad smile. "I felt myself sinking and everything was going dark, but then there was a bubble and I could breathe again, and it was like being pulled to the surface..."

"I could not see you," he whispers. "There was a flash of lightning and a reflection on the water.  I could not see you but knew you where there."

"I just needed to talk to her, there are so many things and they are all jumbled in my head. I thought she could help."

"Babe, talk to me," Uthgaar says, worry lacing his voice. "I am always here, just talk to me."

"But, you're not," pressing against his chest she turns to face him. "You are busy with your work, so much of our family has gone off in other directions. I am alone. With our history, and theirs, with our fight."

"You have amazing friends," he responds, his bushy eyebrows knitting together in thought. "I know it is not the same.  I never thought about you being alone because you never are."

"Samsaren asked if I would consider becoming a Remlane," she begins, hesitantly. "He knows both of us so well and has always been a good friend, even when we are opposite sides of a fight.  I think Sendi had some influence, or a lot really. They are so good together.  He asked Maltris too, they have always been brothers in arms, to be family would just make it more so."

Grunting, Uthgaar pulls distractedly at his beard, refusing to meet her gaze.

"He is not asking me to take up arms in some holy war, he knows me and what I stand for, or against.  He said that it seems like I lose before I can even get started solely on my name alone."

 She reaches out and tugs at his beard, forcing him to look at her. "I love them all, I do. But, I can not fight their battles alone and I can not even begin to make a difference where I feel like I am needed if that is all I am doing."

Gazing down at the band on his left hand, Uthgaar grunts sadly.  "Our fight has always been together, you know that I will never not be at your side, if not physically, always in spirit."

Following his gaze, Synamon gasps.  Throwing herself into his arms she covers his face in kisses. "I am not leaving you!  You are my constant, I would not know who to be with out you," she exclaims, her voice breaking.  "Unless..."

Pulling back she searches his face but sees only relief. Grunting enigmatically Uthgaar smiles at his wife. "Sam is a good man, I have no doubt that he will be true to his word," he says with a nod.  "My only request is that you always remember to come home to me."

"You are my home," Synamon replies pushing her body to his as he wraps his arms around her.

They sit and whisper on the beach, about his studies and her adventures. A rumble from deep in his stomach interrupts them like a waking dragon.  Grinning, Synamon clambers to her feet, pulling at him playfully.

"Come on, I will make you cookies at home," she says, tugging his beard before dashing across the beach towards her pile of belongings.  Pulling on her armor and slinging her backpack on her back she notices something shiny at the waters edge. Her concical gwererest shell had been pushed to shore by the tide. She picks it up with shaking hands, not sure what to do.

"Syn?"  Uthgaar asks as he walks up behind her, stopping short when he sees the shell.

Her eyes lock on his as she holds it to her ear, a soft voice whispers, "Do the good things, bad ones too if you want. I love you."