Wheeling Gull Isle this isn't a stain of red wine, i'm bleeding love

He had done well to avoid her since their reunion, if one could call it that. Karma was an interesting thing, and the wraith had wondered if this was a higher power’s sick joke upon him – for not being there for his siblings, for ousting Rowan from the ranks of Donnelaith and ultimately casting a rift within their family and finally for leaving Aria without so much as a goodbye.
 
It seemed only fitting then, that she did not remember him. It hurt. His eyes had fallen upon her, and the hope that had surged through him to see her away from Moonspear and the side of Floki, who she had seemed so taken with.. that he might have had a chance. He did not speculate on what had happened to her – he could not begin to fathom what had caused her memory to flee. But with this came opportunity for her, and rather than remind the girl who had once been so miserable just how miserable she was, it seemed a kinder act to pretend as if it hadn’t happened. It would have been for the best – with Donnelaith ravaged by flame and his sisters likely dead, the guilt of it all would have swallowed her just as much as him.
 
The pain still throbbed in his chest when he envisioned Deirdre and Emaleth – another notch of his failings to his family. He had deserved this, and now was the time to move on.
 
Something that was becoming hard to do, as his eyes caught the vision of white from just the corner of his gaze. He paused, curious to watch her – to follow the very familiar form of the beautiful girl, but to know that she was not who he had once known. Now, she was as strange to him as he was to her – and pushing past the desire to do nothing more than sweep forward and stake the truth and claim his feelings to her, Constantine buried them, his paws churning in the sand as he would move forward with forced nonchalance.