Wheeling Gull Isle the mask i wear is the performance in the mirror

A woman answers his call and without any information Rhysand dips his head to her in respect going with the safety-net assumption that she’s the boss, offering her a polite “Hello”. Even if she isn’t, he thinks, she’s a pack wolf regardless and manners of Fearghals are meant to be impeccable — something that Sibyl had ingrained into his mind early on. She offers him a warning about the tide and he gives a curt nod and a rasping “Thank you.”, tucking the information into his head though he assumes he’s not saying. He’d got a mission, after all, and if the isn’t Blackrock Depths then he’s got some backtracking to do. Rhys takes a moment to gather his thoughts, to sift through the information swimming around in his head and try to go off the most recent whilst trying to decide how forward he should be. The truth is that he knows very little about his father — never even met the man — and as no idea what sort of enemies he may have made. “This wouldn't happen to be Blackrock Depths, would it?” Rhys asks her and gives pause to draw his salmon pink tongue across his jowls. “I’m inquiring because I’m looking for a man named Arturo Fearghal and my sister said that I would find him there. Admittedly, her information may be a bit outdated.” A bit was something of an understatement but thus far it had pointed him in the right direction and therefore he couldn’t entirely dismiss Devin’s knowledge as irrelevant.

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