Wheeling Gull Isle this isn't a stain of red wine, i'm bleeding love

his scent was so close... but aria could not find him. she was fairly certain she was following his trial, but she kept feeling like she had somehow gotten it backwards. maybe it was the wind-- maybe she could blame this on the wind-- that made about as much sense as everything else had made lately. 

frustrated, the pale wolf dropped to her rump and tilted her crown back towards the sky-- not that there were any answers up there either. everything was a blank canvas, in the sense that she'd sat and painted for hours and hours and stepped back only to find nothing. that's how she felt. every moment of his life nowadays felt like she missed everything-- and she couldn't figure out how. 

but, this constantine fellow. she'd dreamed of him, she remembered his face, and he recognized her. he must've known something about her... he needed to, for her own sanity.