They are. Bold, inveterate opportunists. Clever, too. They'll follow boats and trail fishermen for scraps. I've never seen the sea without hearing their cries... save for in that dream.

[ He thought them rather handsome birds, though raucous. And here, there was no sand, but one could walk to the rail and peer over at the water lapping at the edges of the city's construction. Ironeye did so now, content to enjoy the sound for a little while. ]

...Forsaken, I've a confession to make.