Blackwater Islands Stabbed to death outside of San Juan

As she looked at him, she recalled that he was one of the consorts who had traveled to the Islands before her own departure. It seemed that Whip was experiencing an internal crisis, asking why the sea behaved the way it did, and furthering his query to ponder whether or not the sea was alive. She was stumped, looking off to the side with her ears lowered, honey eyes widened into a stupefied expression. For the moment, she was interested in his troubles, forgetting her slight bias against those of the male gender to attend to his questions.

I suppose... in a way, it is alive. But not in the way you and I are. She grunted softly, not sure how to clearly explain what she meant. I doubt the sea has thoughts like we do, but it is part of the world, and the world is alive... It has to be... Now she had lost herself, and his questions became her own. You know, I don't know. I've never thought about this in depth before. She plopped herself down beside him, now meeting his gaze. Do you think about things like this often? she asked curiously.