Wheeling Gull Isle ≡ Invitations

It is only a short while before she is made aware of the presense of another. She turns to face him, ready to run, and her ears crane towards the back of her head. This was her first time alone. Today would, hopefully not be the last of an adventure only just begun.

His coloring, albeit the black, is not so different from her own. Her head twists in curiosity as gentle baritones dance across their distance.

  He is kind...direct, but kind.

  "Have I overstepped?" a raise of the brow. Perhaps she had, but in all honesty she wasn't even mildly aware she had.

    She considers his question. Why was she here? Fate, perhaps. Her steps had been guided here, and she couldn't explain to him why. War? Death? A defining lack of courage? It didn't matter: She had arrived.

    "I'm alright," A partial lie. Both sounded wonderful, but she could take care of it later, perhaps. "My name is Isarda," She smiles to him now, "Would you care to tell me where I am, sir?"