Wheeling Gull Isle all hail king neptune

Yes, she hummed, agreeing. For now, others would be permitted upon her island, so long as it meant their joining her, be it as a worshiper or as a fellow dead being. The tip of her tail curled, and her ears cupped 'round as she shook out her joints. And food, as well. I do not usually permit others in my company without the gift of fresh flesh, if they live. Her eyes darkened at this, though whether it was due to a cloud looming overhead or simply due to her newfound vexation at the thought it did not appear immediately certain.

Go now, then. I am not a patient woman. I will be here, for the while. The Stormlands, the name seemed appropriate. You will become a true Priestess of this place when you show me your worth as one. What can you make of nonbelievers? And can you shepherd those who do, and teach them what must be taught? The impish Tiamat tried her hand at looking regal, but perhaps looked more malicious and mocking than she ought to. In feeling the dour expression, Tiamat tried to adjust her expression into one of idle complacency, as though she could accept the idea that the other could, that there might be hope held in her for the other.

Tiamat drifted away; she did not wait for a rejoinder, or a retort. In not wanting to be questioned, she would slip away before she allowed it. The dead had all the time in the world, but very little for things they deemed suddenly trivial nonsense.