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

She took the news far better than he had expected – as if she had partially expected it. How else did one take word from one they barely recognized that they had forgotten part of their life? He did not know the full extent of her memories – only that whatever life she had seemed to live with Donnelaith and Moonspear had been eradicated. She began by mentioning Komodo – but it wasn’t a thought she seemed to continue.. and he didn’t press for it. He cared very little what the large tawny wolf was to the pale dove before him – for this was the new Aria, one he did not know. The old Aria was gone – and while she stood before him, just as delicate in many ways as she had always been, it would not be the same between them – could not.
 
“We were only friends,” he responded gently, not bothering to mention that he had pressed subtly for more at times, and had been denied by her. “And no. You weren’t. The last time I seen you, though, you looked like you could be happy – with a male named Floki at Moonspear. I don’t know what happened after that.” He paused – the words seemed so callous to him, but there was no other way to break it to her. The fire that had ravaged Donnelaith – the loss of everything. His own ears slid back to his skull, his gaze drifted from her to cast a quick glance to the shores of the Wilds. He felt far too restrained here, stuck on an island in a life that had no place for him.