Wheeling Gull Isle sacrament

@Kacia

with him was the last he would harvest of the purple flowers that grew wild among one half of the isle. lavenders and wildflowers, a bundle between his teeth. all delicately cared for.

such had nearly become a customary gift from him to others who joined upon the isle. yet somehow this felt different. he did not come with some grand speech prepared, or any clue what he might say. there would be nothing that he felt he needed to say.

only that he wished to see her again and enjoy their shared silence.

so he only sought her out with himself, and his flowers.