She stood in the shallows of the sea, uncaring of the waves that lapped at her heels eagerly as a hound does the hand of it's master in greeting. From her place she could watch the ships pull to harbor, hear the bawdy raucous of the port even over the sea's dull roar, and smell the spices carried on full-bellied galleons as they drew in ripe with plunder from merchants and wayfarers. Her scarlet dress was a ruby against the sapphire sea, marking her as easily seen as she walked through the surf, pale hair escaping the gauzy hood enshrouding her, cloth following behind her.

She moved with purpose, steady against the waves that ever beckoned for her to follow them further into the sea, before her feet stopped in the sodden sand and she looked towards the shore, towards the path where walked a face so hauntingly familiar. It was the face she had known would come, and the face for whom she raised a hand in beckoning, her smile hidden behind a silken veil.