Wheeling Gull Isle razor sharp and ready to cut

ceannasach. a title that he no longer bore and one that he did not think he deserved to call himself anyway. the coywolf's ears are poised attentively atop his skull as dakarai speaks, informing him that he had came to check on the pack that had once claimed this very isle. funny, arturo did not remember ever coming into contact with dakarai during his time as witchdoctor but, then again, in teaghlaigh's last months arturo's knowledge of the going-on's had been limited to his own pack and there was no telling how long undersea had been around before hemlock and him had joined. sometime after teaghlaigh's move, he knows ...but none of it matters anymore. undersea is gone and with it so too is hemlock and the children. it comes as a surprise to hear that not a single one of them resided in moonspear, more-so to hear that their own son had joined blackfeather — of all places — and something like genuine pity flickered to life in the fiery and hellish depths of arturo's fierce gaze and then a sorrow that he cemented a reluctant sort of kinship for dakarai. dakarai had made mistakes that had cost teaghlaigh dearly ...but so had arturo. the coywolf was just as much a sinner cast down from the throne of the sacrosanct and therefore he had no right to judge. "that must be rough." arturo speaks on the subject of dakarai's woes, giving a soft clear of his throat. olive had chosen to leave dakarai while lotte had left arturo but not by her choice; somehow he couldn't help but feel that dakarai had it measurably worse. yes, olive was alive and well somewhere but she had made the choice herself.

stoicism is arturo's natural defense to everything, hiding all the turmoil as if it is a masquerade mask one easily and effortlessly slips on. "teaghlaigh is gone. i could not endure carrying it into the future ...not without lotte by my side. she's —" it was hard to speak the words, even now. "she died. i don't know where chusi is. she left us and never returned though she made at least one trip to the hinterlands after she left. hemlock and i brought the children here to undersea but it and they are now gone." he glimpses around with errant dismay. it's no use trying to track them — their trails are long since gone. "i don't know where." he admits, glossing over the part where he lost his mind. it'd been humiliating enough the first time. the second time was just plain insulting and not something he intends to share with the public.

"this is what my pride wrought of me." words are accented with a mirthless, slightly truculent chuckle, but there was a determination to keep going even with everything he once held dear gone and banished from him. arturo fearghal did not give up, did not surrender. he would regain control of his life, he would re-establish himself and he would rise again ( hopefully this time wiser from his failings ).