Wheeling Gull Isle fayaslais

they watch her with an impassive gaze.

once she'd been a staple in their life: but now it was the druids and their nightwife and shadowchildren.

that the dreadfather can see this disconnect, this frayed and snapped chord that had once bound them was a little surprising but they let it recoil back without making an effort to stop it. a bridge burnt: as it was meant to be.

skaigona is dead too. at this, the dreadfather regards her with a soft spark of consideration: wondering in that split second before it fades if she is more similiar to them than they had first assumed. nevertheless, it changes little. their paths had seperated so very long ago.

it is for the best then, the voidwalker drawls in a low, contemplative rumble. with their deaths we have given ourselves the opportunity to grow beyond. though for the dreadfather, death in the physical sense was not final. the void took those wayward souls, the dreadfather knows. they grow quiet then; studious of her reaction.