#wolfhoundings

There are words being said, of that she is sure. Marcus declaring the change of power; that he is in and Malachy is out. A proclamation of the ship’s new course--one that points north, and will continue to do so; as long as she has anything to say about. But as important as those words are, they simply become noise. Language is stripped into meaningless syllables outside the bubble Mariah and Violet find themselves locked in. Nothing else exists but them; the whole world distilled into two pairs of steel blue eyes. They say no meaningless words, not even a whisper, for there is no need. All that needs to be said is communicated in miniscule movements on their features.

perhaps jonathan was remembering how to find the sunlight, even on the stormiest of days. ( it was, of course, always there, if one took a moment to remember. how else might we see? ) perhaps he had never forgotten but had simply grown tired, for a moment, always for a moment, of being the one who must look. all this to say: the doctor was grateful to have a patient. even if he was not grateful for the patient’s pain, he could still be glad to have some hint of normalcy after the island. the silver lining of it all. 

jonathan had long since learned it was best not to ask what happened when someone came to the sickbay for treatment --- the what of it was not his area. it was the how to fix it that he must care about. and so, at the arrival of the passenger, he gestured for the man to take a seat.