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

the silence was torn, and her own inner demons scattered as her attention fell from the sky and down into the deep, amber gaze of constantine. she was trapped. something inside her swelled, like the feeling of meeting an old friend, but aria could only recognize him as the handsome man from her dreams... and she could not find actions to express that feeling-- not in this situation.

but it was she who sought him out-- what else did she expect? aria was torn, pulled between asking him a thousand questions and none at all. but her dream-- his unquestioned allegiance to her... it was no coincidence... was it?

start small, aria, she told herself, start small.

a smile finally broke her deer-in-the-headlights expression, and she moved her shoulders up tightly-- she might've shrugged, but she felt too tense to loosen the motion. what was relevant to them both? "i wasn't raised as a leader but... i was raised to think like one, act regal enough to be one," she said, slowly, "i thought i left with the intention of finding somewhere to make a name for myself... now i'm not sure if i feel fit as even a right man." it was sort of forward, something aria had never really had a problem being, and honest too. he'd asked, she shared, though it wasn't her whole reason for being so restless. who are you? her mind begged to ask, who am i?