Wheeling Gull Isle rughagon
bury me at make out creek
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#1
All Welcome 



reference tags, aw

miseria had chosen the eastern weald.
she made sure to steer clear of the caves for the woman in the lion's tomb, when there was danger she didn't need to be told twice.
to her chagrin, miseria could not dig a den of her own, being effortlessly unremarkable. she weaved  between the roots of the tree. she wondered if she should ask @Heda for help. or was she expected to come to @Bartholomew?
burn scar crudely pockmarks the right side of her temple.

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#2
wiggles in anyway

with him, he brought a bundle of lavender. the same thing he had done for heda's resting place. he figured their newest would not mind something to make the space more personal. and when he came upon her, it was to find her in the weald. working on that personal space.

he was greatly pleased to see her settle in well.

the lavender was set down between his paws.

you have picked a beautiful place.
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#3


<3

the waterstrider was pawing loose ground when the priest came with gifts. she jumped and skittered to face him, relief settling on her features when it was that: just him.
"t-thank you. you have a nice home," quick to shelve any praise that was casted at her natuarally. "you were p-picking flowers?"
burn scar crudely pockmarks the right side of her temple.

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he wished to say our home, but no words escaped him in that moment. only a warm smile, a knowing look. it would take time, but she would grow into sweetharbor.

they all had in their own respects.

i cherish the lavender fields. the scent is soothing and calming. i feared the incoming cold may shrivel them, so i thought to produce bundles for those of the island.

he moved it closer to her now, then took a step back once done. respectful of her space.
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"that's nice," she muttered, her ears perking up slightly as the one-variety boquet was offered to her. to took it to her side.
"um, i w-was wondering ... i-is there anything i should do for the harbor? i w-wanted to know because i don't — i'm not really good at anything."
burn scar crudely pockmarks the right side of her temple.

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he saw a girl where there was a woman.

he saw something of an earlier heda in her face and voice. uncertainty. only miseria did not seem to bring anger or hurt with her. only uncertainty, a lacking of a path.

but that was what bartholomew was here for, no?

you are already on the right track. to wish to do things for the harbor. you need not be the best at anything, or even good for that matter. he spoke with calmness, warmth. a kindness reached far in his gaze for her alone in these moments.

you wish to learn of a God, don't you?
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miseria shyly stared at her paws.
her sleeves were hot with embarrassment again. she did feel reproach towards herself when she recognized heda as a strong-willed girl with a shepherd's crook. heda who was more a woman than miseria.
essentially a tall child.
bartholomew brought her back with the mention of god. her supposed eagerness towards his religion had softened both heda and bartholmew's faces, so she knew she was going about her fib the right way. "um, yes."
she hadn't prepared a note of questions to scrawl on her palm sloppily with blue ink, so she sat there, waiting.
burn scar crudely pockmarks the right side of her temple.

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then perhaps you will become a spiritual part of sweetharbor, miseria.

heda had learned, but she was not only the priest. her work spread along many things. he wondered if miseria was like himself. more of the soul and mind than the body.

i do not wish to rush you into things — but i pray daily, in the mornings. perhaps you will join me when you are ready for teachings? or even if you find yourself in need of a prayer.
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a spiritual cog, soulful. the center. she only shrugged her shoulders, iffy. she wasn't being intentionally difficult, it was her nature.
miseria set her jaw stiffly, thinking of having to wake up and adhere to a new routine of prayer. but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. if god could could guide her towards the path she'd strayed from, she'd allow him into her heart like a derelict church. "i'd like that, thank you. can i ask ...? d-does god tell you things?"
did her mother's god tell her things?
did a god burn their family apart like an effigy?
burn scar crudely pockmarks the right side of her temple.

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did He?

He does. not always. sometimes you are to figure out the meaning of things from what you already know. other times He guides you a bit more keenly.

more experienced men than him had heard the whispers of God's very voice. true vessels and mouthpieces for the Lord. bartholomew had not heard him so direct, so clear.

but still he acted out His ways, His plans.
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"i hope he comes to me when he can," she whispered offhandedly, looking up at the tree. stability. at least sweetharbor was tangible in the isle, real, and gave her that luxury.
"father, how did you meet god?"
burn scar crudely pockmarks the right side of her temple.

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father.

it was spiritual, but for a moment he imagined abraham. jacob. young and forming into their beliefs. asking him very much the same things. it showed in the softening in his eyes, the momentary far away look.

i heard the stories of Him young. i saw what miracles He could impart on us, i saw the land He had crafted for none other than us.

his ears framed his narrow face as he dipped it down for a moment.

i believe He was always there, from the very start, though. simply waiting for me to turn my eyes to Him.
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#13


do you want to fade for formation or keep going? :o


miseria didn't know how long she wanted to wait for god to make a miracle for her to find what she was looking for. truthfully, she could get up, set her jaw, look ahead and look for what she needed for herself.
but she didn't possess bravery or the strength to to come to terms of what she would find. "how early should i get up for prayer? will heda be coming?"
burn scar crudely pockmarks the right side of her temple.

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i'm good to keep going unless miseria has nothing else to say <33

i tend to rise when the sun does. but i can carry on for some time. a way to say she did not need to be there immediately. he would welcome her at anytime, as he did with any of those who called the island home.

heda may, she may not. he did not summon her to every moment of prayer and worship.

he did not force any upon the isle to take part in sermons if they did not wish to. it was a place to heal at one's own pace.

i imagine she would welcome your company, whenever you wish to see her again. his gaze was warm upon her, only briefly looking around them.
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#15


i'm not totally sure as to what she'd say here so i guess so T__T

"i'll seek her out, when i can," she agreed. heda most likely had more to teach her than miseria even knew, even for being so young. she surprised herself when she wished she had found sweetharbor's priest sooner. "thank you again."
burn scar crudely pockmarks the right side of her temple.

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<3

you are very welcome, miseria.

his head dipped politely. only lingering for one moment longer to offer a — call if you need anything. spirit or flesh. and if that was all, he was prepared to leave her alone once more.

he imagined she wished to rest, as many who came upon the isle did.