Hushed Willows sávvato

She had ended his life -- and that is where the conversation ended. Reina, quickly shifting her attention to the caves, and Everett, deciding to press no further, though he confession would linger beyond their time today. It was good, of course, that the pack had destroyed the threat of the man ever returning to harm Reina - or anyone - ever again. But a myriad of questions filled him, of morality, mercy, and just recompense. And if he had been in her paws, would he have been able to do the same?

He let the thoughts fall to the back of his mind to focus on Reina now. His musings could trouble him later.

It sounds beautiful, he agreed, noting the far off look in her eyes. Is that what had led her away -- the need for solace and greater space?

Reina answered without the need to ask. Escape. A misalignment of values. In a way, he could understand, not word for word, but concept for concept. The Gilded Sea has never been a place of peace, their lives devoted to quelling a malicious god and stirring up an apathetic one to act. They had been at war against forces they had never been able to control, and the more distance he put between himself and the Gilded Sea, the more he found his eyes opened and his heart angered he had ever been so tricked into thinking it true, and ever been proud to be a part of that.

Well, hopefully here, you'll continue to find rest from the wars of your home, Everett said, though you sound like you loved your family nonetheless. Will you ever go back to see them again? Maybe bring some peace you've learned here into their camp? Or bring likeminded members back here with you?

He would like to do the same with the Gilded Sea, though he wondered who might listen to him, after all he had done.

Ah -- oh, me? it had been nice just to listen, without the need to divulge much of himself, by of course, her interest would turn. He glanced at the sky. Hmm... that question used to have an easy answer, but many things have changed. He no longer sang to the fire and rain, after all -- but he thought of Sweetharbour, and of the pilgrimage that led him to the Singer of Worlds. Many of my songs are prayers; I make them as my spirit is moved along. But, there is one I often enjoyed singing while I lived on the Isle somewhere north of here... he hummed the first notes, then stopped with a laugh, a single chuff of air, an uncertain splay of his ears, well - I don't know. Was that you asking to hear it?