Wheeling Gull Isle perdition

fresh lavender and fish, tucked between his jaws.

he felt like some sort of doctor in this way. going about, tending to those of the island. most were taken care of once they settled. some required...an extra touch. more attention and support.

it was with this in mind that he cut a path along the island in search of @Perdition that evening.

he was not a true doctor, unable to mend the man's physical ailments. some part of him wondered if he should go in search of one! to his knowledge none along the isle played such a role.

Perdition was sitting and staring out at the ocean because sometimes sitting was all he could manage. Walking was, overall, better for his pain, but some days he simply did not have the energy. He stared out at the waves and bared his fangs in pain and anger, for the waves had stolen his mind from him--or so he believed--and he had not yet gained it back. Memories returned, but only in flashes like lightning, and then they disappeared again into the recesses of his brain.

the man oozed anger. frustration.

bartholomew normally did not welcome these things, but this was not directed at those among them. the man seemed angry at something beyond. bartholomew remained wordless as he approached, but did not hide his arrival.

softly he set down the fish and the flowers.

i have considered going to find a medic for you. he confessed softly, eyes warm on the man, even if his voice remained flat. perhaps an edge of concern.