Wheeling Gull Isle the voice of rage and ruin

He is a rugged creature. Something large and dark, and she doesn't like that this ominous thing has encroached upon her hideaway. Something within Parthenos fights to be set free - to stand firm before this obstacle and remove it, and perhaps she is more startled by this revelation than any other. He is not an enemy; his posture says this, likely his words as well. But the tone of his voice makes her fur spike, her tail flick in the manner of an agitated cat, and she has the strangest combination of urges: ignore him, and fight him, concurrently. Such a reaction to the male's presence has no basis in her new reality, so the ex-siren is left to be confused. She ducks her head, makes herself smaller against the far wall, and turns away as if to deferr to his presence rather than compete with it.

In turning she reveals the large gash that stains her head. This wound, this mark of her passage from one world to the next, has healed to some extent. The blood is dried. The rain has cleansed it of any sand or grit, although the shade within the shelter does not help with differentiating. It looks to start at the inner base of her left ear and slide down the left side of her head, ending just above the eye - and the fur is streaked with murk because of it. She doesn't notice; she merely wishes to rest, and slides to the ground without issue - but looks to him after a moment, careful and curious.