Wheeling Gull Isle keep a weather eye on the horizon

Axolotl is consumed like flame to gasoline, with no hope of ever being anything but. His draw to her is inexplicable but like the gravity in which holds the moon in the earth’s orbit. He could not fight it even if he wanted to (and he decidedly does not want to fight it). Maera gives no verbal answer, instead touching her nose to his though that touch is brief before she dives for the fur at his, melting into him. In that embrace he thinks of many things. That he might like to see her grow round with his children and following that vein whom those children might take after: him or her? Or some mixture of both? Or of a relative? A sibling or a parent or a grandparent long forgotten? The leviathan rumbles his approval and presses his nose to the fur along the nape of her neck, following the line of her spine until he reaches the junction between her shoulders where his teeth boldly graze through the tendrils of her fur and afterword, tongue quickly seeks to smooth the muss of fur.