It has been a very long time since I preferred such theatrics.

[Funny how quiet contemplation and isolation could calm a dovah down. Once Collin has stopped moving and seems to be more or less secure, Paarthurnax pushes himself down to the ground before heaving himself up into the air. A few flaps of his wings and he's airborne, gliding over the scattered pieces of land. He's learned by now not to fly past them over the void, so he makes his way along whatever paths connect that lead them to the new land. His nostrils flare a bit.]

I smell zal, salt- like the ocean. It is faint, however.