Wheeling Gull Isle You're facing down a dark hall

@Kacia @Heda @Blueberry any/all of you is fine <3 I'll give it a couple days from the first reply before I respond again, and I'll make other threads for whoever doesn't get to this!

After his conversation with @Bartholomew concluded, Tybault wasted little time in choosing a scent trail to follow. He wasn't discerning at all in his decision, though he noted there wasn't much to discern between them anyway. All young, all female. That felt a little creepy, but Tybault tried to withhold judgment, feeling uncharacteristically charitable toward Bartholomew. So far, the man had proven his more cynical assumptions wrong at every turn.
When Tybault finally found someone, he didn't waste any time with niceties. Regardless of what manner of activity he was interrupting, he started with his usual brusqueness: I have some questions for you. Bartholomew gave me leave to... interview the island's residents, He caught himself before he said interrogate, but only just barely.

the girl rose, tangled with salt and lavender petals. "hello." she studied the man in front of her, the man who had come to her with bartholomew's name. 
that her mentor had allowed him close relaxed heda, but not too much. "interview?" came her curious voice, golden eyes moving over his unfamiliar frame.

She was pretty in a way that reminded him of the boy from Moonglow, he noticed belatedly. Her eyes were as sharp and golden as his own birthright, questioning when they settled on him. He shrugged.
Sounds better than 'interrogate', doesn't it? He offered with a sarcastic grin, trying not to stare at her. For some reason, she wasn't quite as distracting as tracker dude. That didn't mean he was completely unaffected, though. I'm looking for my sister. Golden fur, golden eyes. Looks a bit like me but prettier. Well... not that much like me, actually. She probably seems confused, might be injured or sick. Have you seen anyone like that, or maybe heard anything? It was a lot of words for Tybault, but he didn't stop to wonder why he was feeling so talkative.

the man was rough-edged and sardonic. heda sensed an edge in him that had been formed through trial. and yes, it was. he had lost his sister.
the young wolf thought a moment, then gave a rueful shake of her head. "i'm sorry, i haven't seen anyone by that description."
heda gestured at the island around them. "and i sort of never leave." prettier than him? but he was already eye-catching in a way that was vaguely a distraction.

He hadn't been expecting much, and he chalked it up to that when he found himself oddly lacking in his usual disappointment. He wondered when the last time he'd gotten to talk to a pretty girl was. It felt normal; he missed normalcy, although he wasn't sure he'd ever really known what that felt like. It was weird, missing something you weren't sure you'd ever really had.
Maybe that was why he wanted to keep talking to her. You never leave? He raised his eyebrows, unable to hide his skepticism. Still, the words didn't have his typical bite to them. His tone was almost playful, though not on purpose.

was he teasing her?
heda looked at the shadowed humour on his face and mouth; a blush heated her cheeks. "once a month," she relented. "the island has all we need. deer cross over from the mainland. there is a herd here right now."
heda smiled. "i don't think we even know each other's names, do we?" she challenged back with a light expression.

Once a month. That sounded more believable, but it was still odd to him that anyone would confine themselves so much. He started to say as much, but then she pointed out that he'd skipped introductions. Right. Tybault Medeiros, He offered easily, noticing for the first time that there were flowers in her fur. Purple flowers. Maybe she was more distracting than he'd given her credit for. Why not travel? Why not see the world? That was what he was doing, sort of. He wasn't getting much time to enjoy it.

"heda." tybault medeiros, surely a vaunted name somewhere else. hers was simple next to his own. the man was conversational but she found herself curious about his interest in her. she was not sure she had experienced it since ensio, but they had only been kids then.
"i did," the island wolf told him simply, her golden eyes warm at the edges. "traveling didn't satisfy me. being home made me whole."
and sweetharbor was that.

Crying laughing because my phone keeps trying to make me call her Head

Heda. It was a simple, pretty name — or maybe he just thought that because she was pretty? He remembered that he should pay attention to what she was saying, and tuned back in as she was saying that being home made her whole. Well... that was a good reason, actually. Tybault thought of Ophelia, then, and looked away for a moment.
When he looked back, his gaze was thoughtful. What would you do if it was gone one day? Your island. For once, he wasn't trying to be malicious with the question. It was clear something else was on his mind as he asked, something that had nothing to do with islands or even Heda.

heda thought on this a long moment, then gestured toward the mainland. "there's a forest not far from the landbridge. i'd seek bartholomew and we would relocate there to wait for others."
there. had she passed tybault's odd test now? heda studied him. he was not ugly, standing in tones of gold and earth and white, and taller than her besides. he was a man in all ways and while her blood stirred, she was not yet experienced enough to understand that a scant time of two months prevented her from true comprehension. "where did you come from, tybault?" she chose to ask, steering the conversation away from herself.

She didn't answer as he'd hoped; she mentioned Bartholomew and others, and Tybault wanted to ask what she would do if Bartholomew was gone too, but then she was changing the subject. He had a feeling it was on purpose, so he didn't try to pursue it. He was being an ass again, probably. He was always good at that.
The Gilded Sea, Tybault answered automatically, before he realized it wouldn't mean anything to her. After the first few weeks of travel, people had gradually stopped recognizing the name. Now no one ever did. It's pretty far from here. Maybe two months of travel, He'd been gone for four, but he'd been searching, too. It's a pretty shitty place, to be honest. Barely any trees. Nothing but tall golden grass everywhere, and wildfires every summer. We never get any snow.
Oh, and our parents lied to us about the world. About everything. But it's okay, we chased them off. Ha. He'd leave that part out. Suddenly he wished very much that he had killed them. He was too startled, too invested in the conversation to really feel the fear that thought inspired, but it was there. And then it was gone, and he tried to be only here and now.

the more tybault spoke, the more her previous impression of him deepened. he was carrying something around, more than his sister or his search. what it was, heda wouldn't guess.
the island had a way of drawing the confession.
but she saw it pass behind his gaze all the same. and it felt less like an interview. heda started to slowly walk, hoping he would follow. so long as she kept things off herself, she felt she had a good chance to avoid that direct, almost offensive spotlight he'd given her.
offensive only because she wasn't sure what to do with it. his interest felt foreign. she wasn't an interesting person, only a good one, or someone who tried to be good. "it sounds like it could be beautiful," the red-striped murmured, pausing to look out in peace over her beloved sea.

She started to walk, and Tybault wasn't sure for a moment if he was meant to follow. Had he really been that much of an ass? But no, she wasn't hurrying away; there was something languid, inviting about the way she moved. He moved a little too abruptly to follow, as if someone had reached out and pulled him forward.
Then she said something that reminded him of Ophelia, and he wasn't sure what to do with that. She was looking out at all the water, and she looked so peaceful, just like his sister had once. Before what had happened to Rose. He looked away, uncomfortable with all of it.
Fire is beautiful, too, He found himself saying, looking at the water too now. It went on forever. Maybe beauty is a warning. What was he talking about? Why was he even here, having this conversation? Heda didn't know anything of worth. He laughed under his breath, somewhat mocking. That was stupid. You can ignore me. What about you, anyway? Were you born here?
He'd meant to end the conversation. Damnit.

maybe beauty is a warning.
heda's ears flicked to note that tybault, who had hurried to catch up the small distance, also spoke of fire. she was not personally familiar with it, though she tried to recall childhood stories of such events.
the man ended on a bitter note of self-deprecation. he asked after her birth and heda thought of mahler, of rivenwood. "i was born in a forest far from here," the advisor answered at last. a hand of wind caught at her red nape. 
but back to tybault, who she studied at last when she looked back toward the assumed strain on his handsome face. "is fire why you're here?" her voice was soft, holding her mentor's training. bartholomew allowed those to come to him but he knew how to ask.
and heda was learning.

Her answer was vague. Tybault started to suspect that he wasn't the only one who would rather not discuss some parts of his life. The difference was, he thought, that he bothered to cut around the difficult parts. Heda only glossed over it. Maybe she wasn't ready. He could understand that.
Is fire why you're here?
It felt unfair, that she should be so evasive but so perceptive and pointed. He could only bite back the urge to laugh and call her out on it. What he had to say wasn't anything to laugh about, anyway. Yeah, I guess you could say that. More like what brought my sister here, He hoped, anyway. He didn't want to admit that he'd lost her trail a long time ago, and had guessed from there. It's been four months. It felt good to finally say that part aloud, at least. Four months. He wasn't sure what he wanted her to say. Did he want encouragement, or forgiveness? Neither was hers to give, but he hoped for them anyway.

"that's a long time if you think about it." heda paused in the path to pick up a gull's feather. she wound it carelessly along her shoulder, knowing it would not stay for many days before her fur released it. "four months can be an entire lifetime."
heda no longer thought in terms of months, or even years. she found she lived in the day and night and maybe tomorrow for practical purposes, but no further than that. each day she did the same things but in a different order; each day showed her something small and new and wonderful.
and these days had also brought new ones to them. like tybault. her golden eyes watched him for a warm moment and then the island-wolf was moving along.

She gave neither. It was to be expected, of course; she couldn't have known what Tybault was thinking, and he wouldn't have wanted her to anyway. Instead, she echoed thoughts that had crossed his own mind. A lifetime; Ophelia could be anywhere by now. She could be dead. She could have started a new life, one that didn't leave any room for him. And he didn't have a Plan B, not for this.
I'll find her. She has to be somewhere close, Tybault said, more for himself than for Heda. It was a relief when she stopped looking at him and started moving again. I just hope she's okay, wherever she is. What else was there to say? He wouldn't admit that four months was too long, he could never admit that. He still wasn't sure what he wanted from this conversation, but he was certain now that he wanted to continue it.

"i was close with my sisters." heda did not elaborate. "i like to think i'd know if one of them was in bad danger." again her golden eyes studied the man with the gilt crown, as if trying to take his measure.
the breeze tugged at the white and black gull feather tangled into the alabaster fur of her shoulder. "you could stay in sweetharbor while you decided, tybault."
this time her gaze did not waver.

She was close with her sisters. Was. Tybault didn't like the finality of that. He didn't want to become like that, to one day think of Ophelia and think was. But then, hadn't that already happened?
Four months. And now, he was given a Plan B; a choice, where he had given himself none before. Stay in Sweetharbor. He almost wanted to ask what Bartholomew would think of that, but he had a feeling he knew. He had told him he was welcome, even after a full conversation with him. Bartholomew struck him as the type who would accept a gift of carrion with a smile and happily barf flowers. No way he'd protest Tybault's presence. He met her eyes, and wondered what it was he saw in them. He couldn't quite tell.
I could, Tybault said after a moment, struck most of all by the fact that she had invited him. If it had been Bartholomew, he would not have entertained it. I still have two more packs to visit. I'll - think about it. Maybe he would return. Already he wanted to, and he hadn't even left yet. But Ophelia was still out there, somewhere.

heda smiled. "well, in the meantime, maybe you could help me hunt." it was the same offer she had made to caracal. a sacrifice pleased god and fed their wolves; how much better of a task could she ask?
part of her was interested to know if he would come back. 
part of her had already let him go. 
"we'll be here," she said with a little laugh, stretching her long body. "when's the last time you ran?"

Hunting; that was simpler than making a decision. Tybault nodded his agreement and thought on her question. The last time he ran...
He remembered when he'd realized he couldn't find Ophelia. When her scent trail led too far, grew too stale. He had run, then; desperately, for days before her scent crossed a river and was lost to him forever. It had taken even longer for him to admit defeat. Turn back, face his family; their denial, their apathy, it still pissed him off beyond words. Sometimes he hated them all for it.
Depends on what kind of running we're talking about, He grinned, feeling stupid; it was stupid. And easier than thinking about Ophelia. Hunting required running anyway, at least most of the time, and Tybault considered himself a decent hunter. He had hunted for his sister halfway across the world, it felt. What are we hunting?

"scrub hares," she decided at once and with a flick of her tail. "they stay in the open, but they can blend into any shrub or bush they want." as she spoke, heda looked toward tybault with a knowing look, having made no comment after his own.
he would speak more when ready.
the white wolf paced off, ready to lead him out into the base of the greenhills where the trail of these hares might be more easily discovered.