Wheeling Gull Isle The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions

The girl nodded in agreement, trotting alongside the copper male as they delved into the ancient coastal forest - lavender orb wide with awe as it flickered over their surroundings. 

"Aye, it's better to grow stronger from such things," the exile murmured as she brushed her lithe form against a mossy trunk - dark fur snagging in the rough bark. 

"Bad things happened before," Rhælla answered somewhat cryptically. "I was given a fate to fulfill and I did - but at a price. I was hurt, by many people," she explained gently, not pausing in her marking of the territory - carefully concealing whatever grief still hid beneath the surface of her poise. 

"But it made me stronger. It made me want to keep others from being hurt, made me want to build this," her dark muzzle swept in gesture towards the Isle, Aristos.

"So, it couldn't have been all bad," the dark fae shot him a grin, dropping the subject as she jerked her head for him to follow - taking off in a lope as she cut through the alongshore forest. 

Near the heart of the coniferous timberland, the former Queen's gait stuttered to a halt - eye widening as it gazed up at the sheltering, stone overhangs of a spacious limestone abri. 

"Hey, Connor!" Rhælla called over her shoulder excitedly. "Come check this out!"