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The isles had always been a source of great twists and turns for Tilney. Here it had been where a simple herb gathering had turned into months at sea, a demise he thought would be the end of him. Then it had brought that one fateful day that had cemented his depressive state and solidified all his misjudgements and misguided actions to one pathetic pinnacle; here it was he created that new life with the exotic stranger, two faces he'd not yet laid his eyes upon. Two sons were the rumors, both antlered and marked with a tree.
There were other rumors, ones circulating about another tree stamped mutt only this one was not a babe born out of an angry affair. It was a male with black locks and beaded braids, one who prefered the company of the sea and no other. There was only one person in all the lands who could fit that description so perfectly. Upon crossing the waves and tides Tilney found himself gazing upwards at the grand cliff face beside him. the mouth of the isles and their terrifying, gaping cracks called him forth to meet his destiny it seemed. A splash was hear amongst the flutter of birds escaping the canopy and upon turning his nares Tilney caught the sight of a brown-tinted man. "Bartholomeo?" The stag called, hoping more than anything that his brother would be the one to stand against the shore. It surely was him; he could see the splashes of white he remembered so fonly littering his shoulders and the ominous black tree harnessing his neck. "Bartholomeo..." |
Wander or Leave
turn in to winter lights
☀︎
