Wheeling Gull Isle and when you move, I'm moved

the ebony flicker that was Coelacanth moved like a dancer over the sand, the haste of her arrival made to seem easy by her grace. sand kicked up from her inky paws as she stopped, and Dawn was still until her words - soft and ethereal, her memories of Seelie did not include a voice - bade her stretch out her own muzzle in turn, seeking to touch her coal-black nose to the woman's cheek. "seelie," she whispered in turn, tail beating softly as if worried too brisk a movement would fracture the moment. she was immeasurably glad the woman appeared well, at least, without immidiate injury and healthy. "how are you?" she pulled back a fraction and regarded Seelie with a touch of worry. perhaps some of Morningside had made it here. it was a hope she did not dare voice, but it lingered there all the same; they were, had been, allies. nonetheless, it was not her purpose here.