Wheeling Gull Isle vaucha

she had plenty of questions and he smiled for them all.

briefly he thought of abraham, of jacob. he remembered when they had been young. when all of these lines had been bedtime stories he had told them before they tucked in alongside dove. he remembered how they clung to each word and yet they also chirped like baby birds, eager to pelt him with questions.

the memory had his eyes turn out towards the ocean.

God's punishment is a complicated thing. sometimes i — he paused, lips drawing thin in thought. i do not know if it's God punishing more than it is...straying from him does not ever seem to bring much good.

he paused, reclining his mind back into a story teller role once more.

for it was not God that punished the worshiper's rivals, it was the king, who witnessed this miracle of God and sent the rival's into the lion's den. the king proclaimed God, spoke him to be true to his land for such a witnessing. that they too should worship.