Wheeling Gull Isle rankova

he did not speak upon the heart that marked him, the cross he carried with him as he walked and roamed the isle.

he remained warm and bright in the presence of both kacia and heda. those who stayed, those who did not leave the moment they were content — or when the isle seemingly became a home no more.

softly he prayed he would not weep before heda today.

when he approached he did his best to be that golden face, bright and guiding. only the edge of him was tainted with that tiredness and stress.

the snow adds an appeal to the view, hm?

a blessing did not slip from his mouth today.

still he looked upon her as advisor, claim or no.