Wheeling Gull Isle xvii. a girl with ache in her eyes and plucked skin

Her dark crown lifted, droplets trailing from her lips, tilting - scarred half of her features concealed - as her lilac orb locked upon him. For a minute, she believed him to be Rosencrantz - that was until he drew closer and she caught sight of periwinkle where there should have been gold. 

"Komal," she lilted softly in greeting, recognizing the leucistic male. 

At the sound of the soft title that fell from his lips, the wisp gave a small shake of her head, a tiny wrinkle of her rosebud nose. 

"Rhæ," she corrected gently, with a shy twist of her lips, "please."