Witch's Marsh the cry of a loon

Everywhere — he was so emphatic in his description of the sea, with a tone to his voice Ibis couldn't place but she quite enjoyed. The same exuberance, but tailored to the story as he told it; she wondered deeply about this place he came from, this deep southern green place, and wished she could transport herself there to get a glimpse of it herself. Maybe one day she would see the sea herself and finally understand why he spoke so fondly of it, yet carried warnings on the same breath.

She would likely never get the chance to witness his ocean though, this faraway place he spoke of, but ohhh how she wished she could! Maybe he anticipated such a reaction, because soon Kukulkan was speaking of the future, of showing her, and Ibis' excitement grew as if she were a little kid again being promised the stars by her father — I want to see it too! She all but bursts, and realizes how loud she is being. The stillness in the trees briefly erupts with her voice; she's not usually so loud, oh dear. The loon has long since stopped its song but that's okay, she much prefer's this rogues voice -- One day, I mean, maybe, if... If I ever leave this place.

But that's when it hits Ibis: she'd been focused so deeply on reuniting with her brother, with feeding her new friends, and in keeping her little slice of almost-paradise safe from the chaos everywhere else - she hadn't been thinking about the future at all, or what to do next with her life. At some point the marsh had become her home; it wasn't an idealized space, not like the seaside, and yet she found herself pining for the eden he spoke of. Ohh, but she couldn't go anywhere. Not with Okeanos in the wind. Soon she's a mess of these dizzying "what ifs" and she is quieted by them. Silenced by doubts and worries, enough to contend with Kukulkan's excessive merriment.

When she finally drums up the energy to speak again she sighs first, something that tugs at the weight settling deep down in her bones; she doesn't feel light anymore, not with all that she's been through during this season. She smiles to him thinly. It does get cold here. I'm usually okay because I have my brother with me, and he's big like you. But... I haven't seen him in a while now, and I'm admittedly getting worried. You said you've been here a while - so you've felt the shaking of the earth? Ibis didn't want to voice her true thoughts: that maybe Okeanos was buried somewhere, or alive but injured and in need of her, because maybe that would make it real. The implication was there, though. A darkness to her oceanic eyes she could not hide. This is the only place I've found that's been safe enough. Nothing has fallen here, nothing has broken. It's safe in case the world goes mad again.