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

She did not seem to notice his approach – the dove cast a pleading look to the sky, and he paused then, feeling a tug of guilt pull at him. Was he the cause of this? Was she here, now, lost, because he had left her? He had assumed her happiness – but had never asked. His jealousy and pride had never allowed him to.. and then, when devastation had struck the Mayfair’s once more, he had left the ruins of his old home.. and he had kept walking.
 
It felt as if he had walked for so long, that only now did he stand at a crossroads, and pressing forward toward her pale silhouette, the wolf moved much like a predator, entrapping his prey. For if her new beau was the earthstalker and one of peace, then the tumultuous Constantine had quickly become the shadowrunner, dark – untrusting. His fiery eyes swept over her – everything about her remaining so familiar, but nothing was the same. Finally, his tone rumbled forward – breaking the silence of the night. “You seem restless.”