Wheeling Gull Isle immunity, long overdue

for @Dinah!

quietly, the boy regarded the new ones. he could not comprehend that to them, he was the new one.

but he did understand what it meant to be disregarded. their lack of interest dredged up memories that should have drowned when he was carried over in the water cradle; memories of what the birth mother had done.

he shied away from the bright mouth of the den, for the moment at least alone to contemplate what it all meant.

Dislike them, she did, but Dinah was far from heartless. 
She was surprisingly skilled at hiding her contempt from the darklings, as well as from everyone else; it's not as though she felt they noticed, anyways. Mama and Daddy were too busy for her and her brothers now. She wore her smiles well, though never did they reach her eyes. 
And today, after several hours of sanctuary on the shores of the isle, she brought back gifts. The first time she'd done so in days. 
She hands them out silently; shells, patterned rocks, a goosefeather, the empty shell of a hermit crab, a piece of sun-dried kelp. And then, she reaches Hierophant.
One thing Dinah noticed about all of these children was that they were incredibly fascinating to look at. Such strange coat patterns! Maybe it was because they were demons. Or why Mama and Daddy were so infatuated with them. 
But as a daughter of God, mercy and loving her neighbors was what she did. 
Here, she slides a marbled stone in the direction of the darkling baby, and grants him a thin-lipped, empty smile. is for you. 

being vague here - he doesn't know names yet lol! also generalizing, because he hasn't threaded with some of the others yet.

and he didn't notice, not really, not in a way that mattered. he noticed in the way that children do. but he was not old enough to have words to put to this feeling and by the time he could, it had no hope of remaining conscious as social engineering cast his intuition away.

he could feel the love pouring in when he was at the milk mother's breast. he saw it true in his savior's eyes when he looked upon his nameless son.

and though the older ones were tolerant of him, so was the birth mother. they offered more than her, sure — the witch had never offered so much as a hint of a smile, for she had not a crumb of love to spare. it was the barrenness of it that he sensed, the lack of warmth, though he couldn't understand why that was or where it came from.

so he pretended it wasn't there at all, with no way of knowing it was the same way she was pretending but feeling like it all the same.

there is some surprise when she approaches him unbidden. curiosity drives the shadows back. the older sister drops something in front of him, and though he doesn't understand her speech he understands its implications.

the stone was black and white. like him. he attached to it immediately. crouched, he crawled towards it, looking up at her with searching blue eyes to make sure it was really his own, that she had thought of him, to find that warmth he desired.

The darkling child is hesitant. Just as much as Dinah herself was.
Now that she thought of it, she hadn't really said or done much with the darklings. She knew not what their names were, or if they had them at all. She hardly looked at them, and if she did, it was only when asked. She had been too busy mourning the perceived loss of her parents to pay attention.
And as she approaches of her own volition and the child looks up at her with his bleary cornflower eyes, the guilt is a freight train that smashes into her flank and throws her to the ground without mercy.
They were just babies. They didn't understand, did they? It wasn't their fault.  
Is for you! she exclaims, excitement peeking through like a dingy light at the end of a hallway. She leans down to nudge it closer to him with the tip of a little brown nose. Is okay, you can have it. 
But Dinah is not so quick to grow attached. She backs up again immediately, tall ears panning outward as she studies him. For all she knew, his jaw could unhinge and he could swallow her whole. Conflicted by what she knows is right; torn in half by pity and resentment, jealousy and curiosity.
But in this moment, there is none of that. They are just two scared little kids. 

her exclamation stiffens him. he squeezes his eyes shut, afraid that he has done something wrong again. the birth mother had always barbed her children. she did not like it when they moved. she did not like it when they uttered their cries of hunger. everything about him was wrong so why should this possession that took him over be any different!

he'd never made a sound since he had settled in on the island. maybe he would just have to disappear. maybe then he would be good.

she pushes the rock towards him. the sound makes him open his eyes again. his tail begins to wag. for him. it was for him. he was not wrong. his stomach turned in knots. he felt like he was going to throw up.

he touches the rock. it's cold, but it's a comfort.

his savior's voice comes to him.

though all hell assail me, i shall not be moved
JESUS will not fail me, i shall not be moved
just like the tree that's planted by the water
i shall not be moved

though the tempest rages, i shall not be moved
on the rock of ages, i shall not be moved
just like the tree that's planted by the water
i shall not be moved

a shiver passes him over before he steadies himself. his stomach ceases its rocking. he meets her gaze again before stepping forward to close the distance, bestowing her a kiss on the chin if she were to allow it.

He accepts his gift, but she can see on his face that something is wrong. Like a deer in the headlights, he winces and stares at her when her voice is even slightly raised.
He seems hurt. The guilt had formed a funnel cloud deep within her gut as her own stomach twists and turns.
She is silent, for a moment, lips parted, before she finally says, Is okay, you're safe, in the quietest voice she can muster. I won't hurt you. I'm sorry.
It's then that it dawns on her: maybe someone had hurt him. Maybe that's why God brought them here.
And she's not sure why, but she starts to cry, and it's not out of jealousy or anger or resentment but pain, pain for him and the guilt of making him believe she would hurt him.
When he comes closer and plants a kiss to her chin, her little arms stretch out and engulf the small darkling in an embrace. It is warm, but frightening and foreign, perhaps for both of them. I'm sorry, she murmurs, is not your fault.
Perhaps sometimes love is something that is learned, not handed to you.

would you like to fade soon and have another? they're growing up fast!!

had the boy known the guilt he had thrust upon her he might have been deeply ashamed, but thankfully he was too young to understand what she said (or put two and two together). instead, he lets her outpouring of love wash over him. he needs it the same way he needs the mother's milk.

uncharacteristically, he accepts the older sister's embrace without fear and fervently licks her tears away.