Wheeling Gull Isle you sleep rather soundly for a murderer

she roves the soft beaches with no set goal, keenly aware that she is maybe not supposed to be there but eager all the same for new discoveries. she clutches in her maw a knotted piece of driftwood, spat up by the tempestuous sea some time recently and carried now proudly. she will add it to her collection, growing steadily between two boulders near Seelie's den. perhaps she'll show Mur.

a shell has her drop the driftwood suddenly, pulling instead the pristine, iridescent thing into her clutches. gaze finds next and suddenly the dark man; and to him, she trots proudly. she is a child of the Isle, and all on it are her family. beelining toward him, halting only once she comes near. dropping the shell on the ground, she proclaims,  "look!" she beams and waits then for his option.