What a weight for such young shoulders.

Nephilim’s gold eyes darted from the surrounding terrain to Rohanne’s expression, but said nothing. The conversation had carried on as Rohanne spoke more with Mariael’s chin proudly raised and a nod quickly produced directly after.

“Thank you,” she said, “I’m looking forward to proving my worth for the sake of Tinuvel.”

Nephilim’s gaze remained briefly on Rohanne before it slid away and he reflected quietly on the return to the Bay and his decision to give everything to his daughter. Rohanne was not wrong in what she’d said and he felt guilt twist his gut, a thought pervading his mind; had he selfishly thrust the responsibilities of leading onto Mariael’s shoulders because he believed in his daughter or had it been a way to push away any more failed responsibilities which hung over his head?

Regardless it was done now and he and Mariael’s relationship was vastly improving in spite of what would always hang between them: what had become of Hollowshank?

Nephilim blinked and pulled himself mentally back into the conversation as Rohanne answered Mariael’s previous question. His eyes drew back to Rohanne, intrigued to learn of familial ties to Tinuvel. Mariael also appeared intrigued as she looked upon Rohanne with what seemed to be a new, perhaps even respectful light. A slight smile took the corners of her mouth as she regarded their newest family member.

“There’s nothing like Tinuvel,” she said, and the reverence for her home was clear and proud in her tone. “I know what you mean – about the pull of this island. When we were on the mainlands I was almost disappointed by how light the snowfall was.” It was as much of a jest as it wasn’t one – Mariael smiled more deeply after saying it but the fact it was true remained.