Wheeling Gull Isle When everyone you thought you knew deserts your fight

@Bartholomew @Heda
He's walking across the "bridge" right now!

It was tempting to backtrack after the weird bleeding-tree forest, but Tybault pressed ahead. He figured he wouldn't get anywhere by retracing his steps. If he ended up back in the area, he'd check more places, but for now it seemed pretty clear that Ophelia wasn't there. So he moved on.
The terrain seemed to change beneath his feet as he traveled. The dirt turned coarse and dark, the plants sparse. By the time he noticed the tinge of salt and something faintly rotten on the breeze, he was otherwise occupied. There was a lake. A big lake. Actually, that was an understatement. It looked like the edge of the world; a place where the land fell away forever into endless miles of water. Even from a distance, the sight made him queasy. He almost turned back right then and there, but if there was one thing Tybault hated, it was not knowing something. It really fucked with the whole self-righteous know-it-all vibe he was trying to cultivate. He had to investigate.
As he got closer, he saw the way the water churned and lashed at the land. He noticed the sand, and was grateful for something familiar, though it was different from the sand he knew. Coarser, the way the dirt had been, and firmly compacted where the water touched it. He was on the verge of panicking when he noticed the chunk of land in the distance, and stretch of sand that seemed to cut through the water right to it. Okay. That was new.
He couldn't think of anything else to do, so he started walking across it. Any number of things could have gone wrong, drowning chief among them, but irrationally he thought that Ophelia might be there. It was the strangest thing he had seen since the forest, so why not? She'd always liked weird things. And if she wasn't there, at least he'd know more about where he was.

their numbers among the isle shrank, and bartholomew was without knowledge of why.

perhaps everybody had tired of their time here. perhaps the sea was too harsh in the way it welcomed winter among them. if he worried (and he did, deeply) he hid it from all. securing himself away behind a mask of golden warmth each day. tending to things as if he was not internally living in a frantic state.

so he felt himself grapple with further panic and further relief at a figure crossing the bridge.

he knew not what to expect of visitors anymore.

he approached the man on willowy limbs, wary but showing only his warmth outwardly. blessed day! he called above the biting sea breeze.

what has brought you to sweetharbor?

Heda is still welcome at any point!

Now that he was basically in the middle of it, he realized the water was the source of the salty-rotten smell. Gross. And there was so much of it, and it was loud. He was focused on that when the voice cut through his thoughts, sounding entirely too cheerful.
Like all pack wolves, the man led by introducing his pack before himself. At least this one was straightforward, as with Moonglow. If Ophelia was anywhere, Tybault hoped it was a place with a name like Sweetharbor.
Hello. I'm Tybault Medeiros, He began his usual spiel, reminding himself to look deferential. I'm looking for my sister. She has gold fur and eyes, probably seems confused. She might be injured or sick. Have you seen her, or maybe heard anything? And there went the little voice in the back of his mind, chiming in to remind him how unlikely it was. No one had seen her. No one had heard of her.

ah, those on a hunt.

mo had come to them the same way and now the boy was gone. bartholomew had a knack for trying to help those who were meant to wander, it seemed.

sweetharbor has been a haven for types like her. so while i have not seen her, but it is not impossible that those who wander among us may have. he planted seeds of hope where he could, for it was kindness.

or was it cruelty to do so?

come, see the isle and ask those who live here.

it was an invitation for rest too, unless the man meant to be off at once.

This was weird. The further he traveled in these lands, the warmer his reception became. Maybe it was something in the water here. Tybault cast a wary glance at the churning saltwater around them, then turned his suspicion back to the man.
He wanted to leave. Immediately. But he wouldn't find Ophelia by running away from the few who seemed to want to help, no matter how many alarm bells it set off.
Okay, He said simply at first, wearing his suspicion like a bright red cape. He stared at the man for a moment. Who are you? For real, what kind of pack wolf just invited someone in? Was this a mark of reason, or a mark of insanity? It was hard to tell with pack wolves.

who was he?

a question he felt the increasing need to ask himself as of late — but this man meant it bluntly, he supposed.

bartholomew. he stated, blunt but warm still. you may remain on the edge if it makes you feel better, but know i do not allow harm on the isle — from my own or from others.

danger would await no visitor.

There was something ominous about Bartholomew's rejoinder. Tybault, being Tybault, immediately felt more at ease. Rules meant some semblance of order and sanity, at least, even if it was only the most basic. He nodded.
Right. All I care about is finding my sister. I won't cause any trouble, As long as you don't get in my way. He could promise that, if nothing else. He gestured for the man to lead the way, already impatient to question the island's inhabitants. It didn't matter how many there were, or how strange they were. He would interrogate all of them, if Bartholomew let him.

i understand.

many came looking for lost familial faces. he did wonder if the island had that kind of pull about it. then he wondered why it had that pull.

he would lead the man towards the greenhills, so that he may gaze upon the island in full.

what injury or sickness does she have about her? she will be easier to spot if we know.

Tybault had settled somewhat, but he still wasn't ready to let his guard down in full. When Bartholomew asked after Ophelia's condition, he hesitated, even as he followed him to the island; it would be easy to take advantage of her. That was his worst fear — that someone had found her already, someone horrible.
Sweetharbor, he reminded himself. How bad could this guy be? She's... easily confused. Sometimes it seems like she's not really there. In her own head, I guess. I don't know if she can care for herself, And it's already been too long. But he couldn't bring himself to say that. He knew anyone who heard the length of her absence and his journey would think it hopeless. Four months was a long time, especially for a wolf as young as they'd both been. Especially for someone like Ophelia. Even if she hadn't died in the fire, could she really survive on her own for that long?
He knew he couldn't think that way. If he let himself, he would give up.
She wasn't always like that, He added after a second, a touch defensive in the wake of his own doubt. She'll get better one day, if I can just find her. She had to.

i understand.

a throaty, thoughtful hum. he pondered on the sorts he had seen in his time. mutes, sickly, the lost. confused and wayward would always be the most difficult, he figured.

for often times they knew not that they needed to be healed.

i can send you off with a bundle of things when you have had your fill of the island. for you, for her.

for the man most of all, but he did not squash hope of a woman found.

It may be a long process but I'm hoping Tybault will eventually settle here <3

If there was anything Tybault was certain of in life, it was that kindness did not come without cost. Nothing was given freely. When Bartholomew offered him supplies without naming the cost, the first thing he felt was suspicious. But he let himself feel surprised, too; he tried to let himself feel hopeful, though that didn't come as easily.
And your price? He rumbled after a moment, casting a sideways glance toward the man. He was caught off-guard by it all, everything from Bartholomew's mild acceptance of his defensive explanation to the easy kindness he carried. He made it seem so natural, so normal. It was weird.

<33

you respecting our home is my price.

his eyes were warm.

come and go in peace. know that you may return here, if you need more.

and if the man never gave him a reason to worry or question, he felt prepared to open their doors each visit. to welcome the man among their isle again and again.

Suspicion warred with Tybault's desire to simply accept this open display of kindness. As often as he tried to tell himself that he didn't need comforts like that, it was awfully tempting just now. When had anyone ever been this forthcoming and generous with him? Even his own family seemed to think that he didn't have feelings the way they did, that he didn't need anything from them. Everyone except Ophelia.
Remembering that gave him the strength he needed to focus on why he was here. Thank you, Tybault said after a moment, his voice genuine. He was grateful, although the real reason he decided not to question Bartholomew was because it was just easier that way. He looked away from the warmth in the man's eyes, feeling awkward. I'll - get to it, then. Anything I should know before I start looking for people to ask?