"Once you go, the breath of air is like a daydream. Gulp too much and you'll rest into infinity"
- old adage about the diamond spray delta

Salt and mist...

It almost stung Tempest's throat, the harsh and thick air full of the aroma of the ocean was often harmful to his nose, or at least it felt like it. He mainly breathed through his mouth, hence the rawness of his neck.

But yet... he enjoyed it.

Tempest had went through so much, he'd given up his journal, and only kept a few more scrolls in his practical bag for ease of use. He had literally gone through fire and flames. Breathing in and letting the air sting his throat was a form of catharsism, he found solitude in reflecting that the only thing he was worrying about was the small sting, one minute problem in the sea of life.

The waves crashing and the mist in the air coated Tempest's scales in a slight film of water, making his relatively flat stark white scales shine. He would be able to be seen from a relatively far distance, but he didn't care.

He sat at the edge of a plateau, the lemongrass whisking besides him at his feet, scratching against his worn scales. The wind was wild, but Tempest stood tall, unwavering. His wings for once were spread out, the sun soaking into the speckled crimson.

Waves and sunlight...

There were wing beats behind him, and Tempest glanced back, there was a familiar face, from a more manic time.
"Are you really who I think you are...?" Isopod asked, his voice held back by chains of royalty, yet a glimmer of hopeful excitement still latched onto the edges of his words.
"I... think so..." Tempest said, his voice weighed down by years of experience.

Isopod stared at him for a second, taking in the sight of a familiar face, thought long forgotten in the wind. "I... liked the scroll you gave me" He said, slightly awkward and holding a slightly reserved posture, wings drooping slightly and head slightly bowed. He looked relatively the same as when Tempest last saw him, still a hair bigger than the relatively big Icewing.

After a pause Tempest spoke, still unsure about the Seawing.
"Thanks."

Tempest... didn't know what to think of the situation. He usually never saw dragons he recognized, seeing a dragon again that he met before marked him as very strange. He called it his curse being a traveler, never able to make very good friends and always on the move. Over the years he found it being the main reason it was getting harder and harder to stay positive.

But... what if he stopped?

Tempest wormed the question out of his mind, and elaborated to the stark white Seawing.
"What I mean is... thank you. For liking my scroll"
"Is it ok if I sit next to you? That's kinda my reading spot"
"Ah... yes, apologies"

Tempest stepped to the side and let Isopod step up to him. Tempest once again took in another breath of salty air. He finally saw another dragon again, and he felt... good about it.

Tempest wanted to ask so many questions to Isopod, about everything. His scale color, why he was always a bit moist, about how chaotic the Seawing royal family was, what it was like being a prince. Through his years of travels, when Tempest looked back through his entries these questions bubbled up, and festered throughout the years.

But those urges faded away, as did the hurt in his throat, the stress of the past, the aches and pains from the years of traveling.

Maybe... it was ok to rest from time to time...

In a long sigh Tempest lied down to rest, and Isopod took out a scroll

Peace and wind...