Shores are respite from the trials of the deep blue sea. Places where the people who keep us in their hearts await harvest and our return. Where ponderings over unmarked maps and questions once lost to time make marks on wood and lives. Boats and spirits find rest and repair.
Some stand by the edge and gaze into the storm churned, sun spattered horizon and breathe steady. They are the ones who seek different starpaths and mural currents. They’re the ones the storms invite to dance. Poseidon’s favourites.