Wheeling Gull Isle rankova

in the greenhills, the young advisor stood and watched the swells around the island. only a handful of those with faith remained.
but heda could not fault miseria her fear, nor mojag his want for his mother. the dark woman would move on. 
and yet she felt the wildness of the island embrace her, rooting her as no home before had ever done. 
softly she called for @Bartholomew, for by his word and his choice would heda stand by if he too wanted to remain.

he did not speak upon the heart that marked him, the cross he carried with him as he walked and roamed the isle.

he remained warm and bright in the presence of both kacia and heda. those who stayed, those who did not leave the moment they were content — or when the isle seemingly became a home no more.

softly he prayed he would not weep before heda today.

when he approached he did his best to be that golden face, bright and guiding. only the edge of him was tainted with that tiredness and stress.

the snow adds an appeal to the view, hm?

a blessing did not slip from his mouth today.

still he looked upon her as advisor, claim or no.

kacia. bartholomew. could heda really stay and watch them — watch them rear children in the warm time to come?
her heart was a roar. she was so very thankful for him standing near her, for his voice. "it's beautiful," the young advisor murmured. "i can't think of anyplace i'd rather be."
her heart was filled with love for sweetharbor.
and for him. heda looked to the man now, searching his much-adored face.

he knew heda could stand here till the end of time.

a pillar to the things that he hadn't failed, perhaps the true foundation of sweetharbor was her. not him, not his beliefs. he shoveled guilt down his throat, into the flames of his belly.

i have worries, but i love the island and all it has done for me. for us.

and he could not bring himself to dig up his worries if she did not ask.

for us.
heda understood what he meant but her heart tripped a moment at that all the same. and then she pushed down the affections.
"what do you want to do, bartholomew?" her voice was warm, welcoming. but she was no longer sure he wanted to stay, and she was not sure she wanted to leave.

he had thought he had known. he had thought he had finally found the image of that but it had crumpled within a season. come as quick as it had gone.

i want stability. i want bonds and roots. i want a home, with God as our shelter. perhaps sweetharbor had given too much so that it had neglected its own roots.

his voice was passionate. he wanted these things. but she had them here. he had given her that. a home. peace. 
an introduction to god.
she swallowed and turned her golden eyes on him. "take kacia and form a home, bartholomew." heda did not think she had ever spoken with such confidence. "even if you must join somewhere else, for now."
the wind almost lashed the next words from her mouth. "but i want to stay. i need to stay."

take kacia and form a home.

he blinked. jarred and owlish. he could not fathom leaving heda behind in such things. winter was here, the island shrunk. her strength was not of the question, but his heart still grappled with hers too much.

i cannot leave you.

nor did he think he could allow himself to be pushed away. selfishly. childishly.

"god wants me to stay," and now there were silent tear-tracks on her cheeks. "i feel him here, and the land here too." she tapped her chest.
"this is sweetharbor. and sweetharbor is my home. don't stay unless you feel it too," heda said, and finally did start to sob. "i won't have you — stay, stay just for me. you have — you'll always have me, bartholomew."
she loved him.

he had misspoken, and now he felt he had planted seeds of abandonment in a girl he had said he would not abandon.

quick was he to scoop her up in willowy arms, hoping that she would not deny comfort in these trying hours. it hurt him to know he may have played some part in this sorrow.

for a moment, he did not want to speak any more. only soothe her.

heda let herself be enfolded and pulled forward. she inhaled the good deep fragrance of him, the salt of his fur, the kindness that glowed above his heart and warmed her steadily with each moment. she pillowed her muzzle on his shoulder and shut her eyes; she told herself it was a gift from god and she would not squander this connection by begging for it to be more.
as long as bartholomew wanted to hold her she would be held, melting against him, filled with wishes and wants and her own brimming determination.

he was selfish in the silent moments.

wondering what every moment might be like if he could hold heda so freely. wondering what a future more intertwined might look like. he knew it was cruel, he knew it was selfish. yet the thought flowed freely in the back of his mind.

wondering if something was wrong with him, for not gazing upon such a devout and trusted figure as he did another.

he held her still as he spoke now.

i have left the island before and i returned. it was the only place i ever felt a deeper connection, a solitude to be closest to God. He is everywhere, but i feel it most here. his voice was small, a whisper against her head.

will you let me stay with you still, heda?

when bartholomew spoke his voice resonated in her ears as it had always. her arms tightened around him, not with possession but with affection.
he said these things against her skin and though they were holy things, words of love and of god and of remaining, all she could wonder was whether or not he could feel her heart racing, shuddering between them like a trapped bird.
bartholomew asked to stay. she could not look at him; heda was afraid she would see resignation where there was none in his voice.
"i never wanted you to go," she murmured into his lovely soft fur. "i want you to stay but i don't want you to resent me if you do." what about kacia, what about —
but heda pulled her mind away and kept close, fighting more tears, listening for what else he was going to say.
and trying so hard not to dream.

we share worries.

he muffled into the start of a fiery stripe of fur.

here i am, wondering if you might resent me already for the island's lacking. if you would resent me, if i stayed. but his voice was soft and although he spoke worries aloud, his voice did not strain with them.

he could not ignore — nor deny — the relief there always was in speaking these things to her.

the comfort she constantly brought him.

fade & have a new one? <3

heda shook her head, soothed and comforted and stilled by his continued nearness.
and yet she felt the sensation beneath, something far and yet close upon some horizon she had not yet reached.
did he enjoy holding her? or did he see it as his duty?
heda refused to think on it. "i don't think i could ever resent you for anything, bartholomew."

yes please <3

peace.

it wrapped around him, warm and comforting. it was heda. the source of most of his peace these days.

he was content to fall into a contemplative, soft silence with her.