Wheeling Gull Isle let my imagination run away with you gladly

"mere dost."

like a cool breeze, her words, uttered in his own tongue, fluttered toward him, punctuated by the touch of her nose to his. a ripple of something nameless but shocking in its intensity passed through him, and he swallowed, but held his ground.

she'd remembered. he'd called for his friend upon washing up at undersea. nando, lost to the waves. she'd remembered, but he had often forgotten, and now the grief came upon him. . .though not without a silver lining of joy. she had remembered, and she had spoken his language.

"mere dost," adi agreed, sadness like broken shards of glass in his eyes, so at odds with the smile stretching his lips. "haan, teri dost hoon. lekin chikni raat. . ." he trailed off, looking away. he took a step back, toward the base of the tree. gaze raking the island, its pristine shores, its lush verdant paradise.

he didn't want to leave here.

"main tumse pyaar karti hoon," he said suddenly, bringing his eyes back to hers. lost in the cerulean, the peace of her face. "aur main tumhaari pyaare bananaa chaahta hoon. nahin sirf teri dost."

adi knew it crossed a line, he knew he was reaching, but threw all caution to the wind in that moment, striding forward and embracing her, pressing his muzzle into the sleek fur at the nape of her neck.