Wheeling Gull Isle do no harm

He did something--a gesture, of sorts--the pale girl didn't understand, and she shook her head, confused. Before she could respond, he put his chin by her feet, shifting with more than some effort. She pressed her nose against his forehead if he'd allow it, drawing her tongue along his forehead in a soothing manner. While she hadn't comprehended what he had done, she saw the attempted comfort behind it, and smiled against his skull, closing her eyes.

"Maybe not dead, then," Maegi whispered, breath stirring his fur. "Everything feels too. . .alive to be dead." Alive and yet boneless, a kelp-like existence, floating through the water. She wasn't sure of the boundaries of her body; every nerve, every sense, was dulled, limp, heavy. The breaths she took were slow and deep, and her heart had slowed considerably.

There were stories she meant to tell him, but all the words were suddenly gone; she grasped for them, but they drifted away, leaves in a breeze. Maegi yawned, bringing her head down to rest by his. "Good Mou," she said softly, like a child praising a pet, then sleep was rolling over her like a tidal wave, pulling her into its depths. The dreams that met her there were of many colors, but upon rising, she would remember not one of them at all.