The island. He'd meant to return long ago, but something kept him away. Shame, maybe. Tybault tried not to think too hard about himself these days, though. That was a good way to fall into a dark mood, and never failed to taint the rest of his day thereafter.
Self-loathing was nonetheless a constant companion. Physically he was healed from his last encounter with Reverie, although not without scars. Emotionally... it was a different story entirely. He came to the land bridge and stood, staring toward the place he hoped would now bring him the peace he couldn't seem to find on his own. After awhile — he wasn't sure how long — Tybault called out for Bartholomew and Heda, hoping one of them might find a moment to greet him.
It was time to finally take them up on the offer they'd made on his first visit here.
He knew that voice, but instead of rain and fire, something else crawled through him. Not anger, not hate — though those currents still flowed, but a deep sorrow punctured them now.
And as Everett moved over sand and sea towards his brother, he wrestled with it all.
Water concealed the land bridge but he knew the way to the shore by now. He plunged into the shallows and ran until his feet left the loamy ground and he swam. A sodden and salt spun mess. And sure enough, Tybault was there.
Tybault,
he called out in greeting, but held no snap to his voice. He was guarded, but he didn’t shy from his younger brother as he pulled himself ashore.
It was Everett who answered his call. Tybault somehow found himself unsurprised. The beginnings of a grimace pulled at his features, but he smoothed his expression into something carefully-blank and nodded his greeting.
Everett,
He glanced behind his brother to see if anyone else was coming. No sign of Bartholomew or Heda, so Tybault refocused on Everett. It's a nice place, isn't it? I came here looking for Reverie once.
Tybault sighed. Is Bartholomew busy?
It was the curly-furred man he wanted to talk to, more than anyone else, but oddly there was no trace of his scent in Everett's.
They met each other in something like neutrality, even if at first, his brother’s face had begun to twist in the usual ugly look Tybault often gave him.
The mention of Reverie brought another stirring of sorrow. He hadn’t been able to shake the guilt of leaving her, nor the memory of the pained look she’d given him before she’d finally torn away. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but she hadn’t seemed to understand.
It is lovely,
is all he said to that thought, and sadness frayed at the edge of his voice.
I don’t know Bartholomew,
though he felt like Heda might have mentioned him once, Heda is here, though. With her husband, Caracal. I trust she would have come to meet you, but…
could Tybault be trusted with the news of her children? Reverie had been terrified of Tybault, though he still didn’t understand why. But then… she wasn’t in her right mind now, was she? And the way she had interpreted his motives too… her children are still quite young. If you would like to see her, we could call for her again from the other side of the bridge.