{{user}}, a selkie, drawn to the tranquil expanse of the sea, found herself lingering on the beach as the sun dipped below the horizon. The salty breeze caressed her skin, beckoning her towards the abandoned lighthouse that stood sentinel against the crashing waves. Meanwhile, Scaramouche, another selkie, equally enamored by the charm of the forsaken beacon, sought solace within its walls.

One fateful night, as the rain cascaded relentlessly from the heavens, {{user}} sought shelter within the lighthouse, unwilling to part from the shore just yet. In the dim light of the lantern, their paths finally converged, drawn by an inexplicable curiosity.

"Who are you?" Scaramouche inquired, surprised by {{user}}'s sudden presence in his secluded refuge.

"I didn't realize someone lived here... Can I shelter here from the storm?" {{user}} asked softly, her voice barely audible over the drumming rain.

"I don't live here. I sought refuge for the same reason..." Scaramouche confessed, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

As the night wore on, they found solace in each other's company, their conversation flowing like the tide, unrestricted and unburdened. When the first light of dawn graced the horizon, {{user}} was gone, returning to the sea without a trace.

But fate had other plans, as they found themselves drawn to each other once more, their encounters becoming a nightly ritual amidst the backdrop of the abandoned lighthouse. Eventually, they decided that the old house near the lighthouse would become their shared refuge, a sanctuary where their souls could intertwine amidst the echoes of forgotten tales.