Wheeling Gull Isle always laughing in the midst of power

why do you live here, on this island? — how could one answer such a question? her brow became tightly knit, framing her face with a palpable disdain not for kynareth; no, but for the acknowledgement of her state of loss.

ying grieved for something which she thought might have been found here, on this island, but it wasn’t. why was she here?

none of that would have made any sense to this woman, though. she softened her features, cleared her throat, and mumbled some unintelligible apology. my spirit says this is home, ying explained, and i listen, because it knows more than me.