Blackbeak Bluff community

he had met a girl here once.

one who had planted a seed, whether she realized it or not, that had blossomed into sweetharbor. a place that now flourished under the guiding hands of bartholomew and heda. yet he drifted inland with thoughts of the cold settling over them.

he could not help but consider what things would look like come winter. thoughts of spring politely set outside of his mind for now, lest he decide to torture himself with it.

for now, he only need to focus on making sure they survived upon the island through the coldest months.

which included finding bodies and food.

it looked as though new babies were planned for sapphique. mireille was restless; she left the borders behind to be alone with her thoughts. 
they were upon men, upon what she knew of them. of sobo. of njord. of chacal, and her connection to the rise.
suppose one day she had such a connection? she knew that erzulie and rosalyn would never expect her to have children. but — as the weeks passed, mireille wondered if it was her responsbility.
the dark man was here again. the red wolf approached with a grin. "bart'olomew." she glanced toward his island, then toward the wolf who wore many scents. "you be makin' a home out t'ere after all, den?"

she materialized, and his gut churned and tumbled.

he recalled the words she had spoken last time.

he pushed the thoughts of the sylph of the isle from his mind. instead he gave her his warm gaze and focus. it is a blessed day to share such news with you, mireille. a brief smile, his tail waved behind him once.

it is called sweetharbor — and i would like to extend an open invitation.

sweetharbor. "dat be a bonny name," mireille crowed happily, shades of njord crowding her tones. blessed day, he called it, and extended her an invitation.
"what? to come t'ere?" again she looked at the dark smudge of wheeling gull in the distance. but she was not opposed, and it showed in the resolute look of her emerald eyes. "maybe i should. my mot'ers — dey stepped down. my sister an' brother' an' i, we be leadership now."

a bonny name.

he would not have deciphered it had she not given other clues of her approval. then he offered a soft nod to her questions.

congratulations. they must be proud. he smiled warmly, words genuine.

i have a young woman — for she was such now! no longer a child in nearly any regards. who is my advisor. your age, i'd guess. she leads with me. he did not know if such would sound unusual to her. someone far younger than him as an advisor.

faith was not determined by age.

would you like to bring others with you on a visit? your siblings?

mireille kicked at a small stone. "it has been — interesting." and that was all she could think to say. the title of obsidian did not clench her brow but neither was it easy to carry.
a girl her own age.
a friend? but mireille shook that off. she had sapphique to tend.
"oui, actually." a crooked grin tugged at her mouth. "my little brot'er, quennell. he likes to wander. maybe dis be a way to keep an eye on him!"

interesting.

bartholomew could say the same thing of his own leading. so many moments he had not expected, he was hardly prepared for all the faces and personalities he encountered. that he brought home.

tell him he may run from sapphique to sweetharbor as many times as he wishes. i will not turn yours away. his eyes shined bright and polite upon her. if the rest of sapphique was as hers, he would welcome them any time they made their way to the isle.

do you remember what we discussed last time, mireille?

he dared to place his own ego upon a stake for the sake of his mind and heart.

perhaps she would not even recall that part of their meeting.

"i will tell him!" she was surprised and pleased, and knew quennell would feel the same. scarlet ears flicked.
"well, let us t'ink." mireille's grin was mischevious. "we talked about de ot'ers on your island, how you said dey were my age. well, first, we talked about being a husband an' all my siblings." she laughed erzulie's bold, elegant tones to remember how scandalized bartholomew had been!
"we talked about your beliefs, i t'ink. an' den i showed you how to hunt urchins."
her rich green eyes studied him. what exactly did he mean?

she laughed!

his features grew hot and flustered. golden gaze fluttered about. scandalized all over again! perhaps that would be enough to tell her of which topic he had meant to bring up but —

y-you remember much, don't you?

he laughed.

the sound of an embarrassed man.

mireille giggled again, helplessly so, as bartholomew acted exactly as he had that first time. "i remember everyt'ing." but her verdant eyes were on him, and curious.
suppose — no.
"did you want me to embarrass you again?" the obsidian teased, her red fur a contrast.

mireille!

his voice tight against his vocal chords, every ounce of him became a pearl-clutching priest. exactly what he was! and yet he had invited this. not for....heaven, not for that.

he had wanted...the thoughts of a woman. one he did not consider like a daughter or pupil.

the nameless temptress that had clutched his attention was neither of those things.

i wanted...advice, but perhaps it is too soon for me to ask such from you!

his voice full of nothing but light humor as he tried to dance around the embarrassment he felt.

edit: 400 for you!

blessed am i <3333

he scolded her, but his face was so rampant with horror that mireille all but demanded herself to keep from laughter, let she fall to crying in his presence.
"advice?" but he was older! surely it was he who should impart to she such wisdom. "tell me what be on your min', bart'olomew," mireille invited, smoothing her face into attentiveness while the humour remained in her eyes.

he realized that perhaps he should pray upon this too.

that God may show him the truth in all things, as He frequently did. he decided he would do such after he heard the words of the young woman.

there is a...woman. he already half-heartedly expected her voice to prod at his sensitive spots again.

it has been some time for me to have...such fancies. i do not know if she looks upon me the same way. and i must not act in outlandish, unholy ways.

he felt old and traditional now, faced with this conversation.

he was a man who wanted a woman.
and something odd came over mireille. she had all the clinical knowledge and none of the experience. but perhaps he — thought she did! that concept brought with it a sense of specific pride, that she should seem so wordly.
"do your beliefs be allowin' it?" mireille asked first. did bartholomew seek to hold back or know how to proceed. 
the obsidian looked out toward the sea. "de sprin' be makin' de choice for us. if you be wantin' her, see dat she feels de same. t'ere be no shame in it. bring her a gift," mireille added, a wry tilt to her mouth hiding how pleasant an idea it was to her, to be brought something. 
to be wanted.

i suppose it allows me to court. most things should wait until marriage.

this was said only to be pressed upon himself. he did not seek to trap mireille under his own Godly rules, as he once might have. she was a kind young woman, even if their worlds remained different.

a gift?

a brow arched, the top of flopped ears lifted some. nearly giving him a boyish appearance. if the sapphique leader had a suggestion there too, he remained all ears!

most things should wait till marriage.
mireille wanted to scoff at that, but she watched his ear flop in a way that her own did not and grinned instead. "flowers. some'tin pretty from de sea, an abalone shell or a piece of smoot' driftwood."
he looked, somehow, younger than her in this moment. attentive as if she were a teacher. 
"you say you donnae be knowin' how she feels? how do she be lookin' at you?"

he truly did become but a boy in that moment. infatuated with the thought of some woman, entirely uncertain if the feelings were even there or mutual!

she watched me the first time we met. then silently invited me closer. next she followed me home, from a shoreline south of sweetharbor.

he cleared his throat. features feeling hot suddenly, voice tighter for his next set of words. perhaps that was more than how she looked at him but —

we...played among a lavender field.

as if he was sharing a secret!

her eyes were soft. he described pastoral scenes, and running through a field of flowers with the woman. mireille was suddenly envious of her, not only for the sake of him but for the idea that such beautiful things could happen to others.
and maybe to her, thought yet it had not. though she had not thought of wanting it until now.
"she looked at you. she followed you all de way home. an' den she played wid you." mireille's voice was amused, though her eyes were an open study. "i be t'inkin' de feelin' mutual, oui."

"i be t'inkin' de feelin' mutual, oui."

his head turned to the side, gold gaze looked out towards the sea. bashful. sheepish. boyish.

he had said the truth when he spoke that it had been some time. he had only ever been with dove. he had thought he would have only ever been with dove. now the coming winter would mark a year since she had passed from this earth.

will you help me find a gift? you taught me urchins last time.

mireille was suddenly seized by the wild urge to ask things of him how. surely he'd — 
or else how would he know he desired her?
"yes." she waved her plume for him to follow and set off along the bluff. "not flowers, not here." that odd thing came over her again as she remembered rosalyn's words.
would he — would that man — maybe she could use bartholomew as a template when the time came.
mireille skipped away, shy. "come down. i t'ink i see kelp in de water." she herself descended the side of blackbeak, nimble as a sagittarian. not the face itself but a path hewn alongside the steep drop.

not flowers.

he agreed with this, for they already had plenty among sweetharbor. he wished to give her something truly worth gifting. something as awe-inspiring as she seemed to be.

in her wordless, tempting ways.

he fell silent as he followed after the young woman of sapphique. fearing a misstep, emotionally and physically.

mireille tempered her step and slowed as much as she could. but as soon as a ledge presented itself, she jumped with ease into the sea.
the young leader surfaced a moment later and paddled easily to a surface of flatter stone. kelp bobbed in the shallows all around. mireille shook out her scarlet fur and pawed through their leaves, looking for something pretty enough.

he watched.

delight and horror painted clearly upon his features.

should...should i?! this called out over the wind and the lapping of the ocean. wondering if he too was expected to jump!

mireille looked back up at him. "oui! it be lookin' harder den it is!"
the red seawolf went back to her questing, and what she pulled from the shallows was not kelp, but a large pearl pawed from underwater sand.
she set it between her paws and glanced around for the sweetharbor man.

he met the water with a smack that suggested he was heavier than he truly was.

now his narrowness was exposed in full. his curled fur hung heavy from the water, clinging to the sharpness of his figure. how uncomfortable it all felt!

so he quickly clambered upon a surface the seafarer stood upon. unaware of what she had found.

he blinked, attempting to will the salt away from his eyes.