Wheeling Gull Isle vanyan sòlda

home right now. here? with heda, and whatever odd god she served now? mireille looked him over with a gentle stare while he gave his brief explanation, and she was happy to have it so brief.
mireille gave no indication he would be chased away — yet. it was odd, to think of him as family. the obsidian wondered what sort of man he would be, caracal’s obvious thoughtfulness notwithstanding.
for a moment her spirits lifted, and in the next they freefell into a spiral. the tension returned to her face, her limbs; “yes,” mireille confirmed. “before now i didnae have a reason to leave.”
and did she have a reason to return?
mireille drew a long, low breath. “you mean to stay here, on de islan’?” moving on and forward, forever forward, away from the lurking shadows which hurt too badly.