Wheeling Gull Isle these lights are way too loud

People often came and went. He was most often tended to by beings he had no name for, but he was more than enthusiastic when visited by the dark Seelie or the pale Maegi, who had become familiar fixtures during his recovery. He sometimes woke to the presence of Reed as well, but she seemed far more rough — very serious, or maybe disinterested in befriending her patient, it wasn't clear and really didn't matter. He appreciated each of them for their quirks, although lately those idiosyncrasies were softened behind the fog of his medication.

When a new face appeared before him, he was almost oblivious to it. But it moved closer, and it smelled like food — strong enough in fact that his belly grumbled and bubbled, feeling quite strange all things considered — but Mou forgot all about that when the stranger spoke. He didn't recognize the voice or the face. Everything that transpired before his arrival on this island had been removed from his mind — he had been, essentially, cleansed and rebooted by the sea.

But he still looked up when the sound came, straining more because of the offered food, and while his golden eye focused precariously on Rokig it was clear by the size of his pupil that he wasn't entirely present, not really.