Wheeling Gull Isle You're facing down a dark hall

the more tybault spoke, the more her previous impression of him deepened. he was carrying something around, more than his sister or his search. what it was, heda wouldn't guess.
the island had a way of drawing the confession.
but she saw it pass behind his gaze all the same. and it felt less like an interview. heda started to slowly walk, hoping he would follow. so long as she kept things off herself, she felt she had a good chance to avoid that direct, almost offensive spotlight he'd given her.
offensive only because she wasn't sure what to do with it. his interest felt foreign. she wasn't an interesting person, only a good one, or someone who tried to be good. "it sounds like it could be beautiful," the red-striped murmured, pausing to look out in peace over her beloved sea.