Sleeping Dragon you're seeing black and blue, so i'll paint you a clear blue sky

Gavriel does not oft hear his sister’s birth name and on Gyda’s tongue it seems foreign and out of place. When she’d taken the commander’s spirit, Thuringwethil had been placed on the side lines, and her title had taken over. He isn’t sure he’s even able to pronounce her old name anymore at all. “Perhaps there is a reason he had not been killed,” he offers, though he hadn’t been there. Maybe she didn’t at all. “But you are right, even in Seageda it is uncommon for one to survive their crime,” he decides, especially one so serious. Most often a trespasser would turn, even in the event of their promised release, but this one hadn’t gone very far as far as he is aware.

“I see,” he murmurs then, though the name of a bay does not mean anything to him. This land is entirely foreign, and names so far were lost in his mind. Gavriel doesn’t know how far the sea is from here, but he’d caught glimpses of it the higher up the mountain he’d gone. The distance remains unknown but he’d like to visit it again, relish in the waves he used to call home.