Wheeling Gull Isle take a backseat, or play pharaoh.

there is a moment when accipitra comes up for air; that moment happens to coincide with Judah’s offering of the golden shield, his subsequent lick, and Dinah’s perfunctory arrival. 

accipitra hushed, cowed into silence by the stormcloud that momentarily darkened their threshold before it took wing in a flurry of residual anger. she was young but recognized that dark emotion; it thrummed the air and ceased her crying. 

she looked upon judah, for now theirs was a bloodpact exchanged at the cost of her blood. iron tinted her tongue. 

aba? she ventured, her babble having no discernible meaning besides a question. her gaze followed the sultry smoke of brimstone that tailed dinah’s wake; dinah may have moved past her vision, but eddies of her presence swirled still where she had stood moments before.