Wheeling Gull Isle The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions

The girl chuckled at his joke - feeling a sudden stab of pride for their little band of waywards, their family. 

Connor's timbres - laced with uncertainty - brought the nite queen's head swivelling, anxious gaze finding him as she abandoned the boulders she'd been coating in her perfume. 

"Yeah?" She asked as she drew to his side, remaining eye gleaming with silent encouragement as she caught his jade gaze. 

"Oh," she murmured, gaze turning to the evergreen sentinels as she considered his question with solemnity etched into her onyx features. "Well, should it flood, we would have to retreat inland for a time until the waters receded." 

"I doubt the water would ever rise high enough to cover the entirety of the Isle, even in the fiercest storm," Rhælla reassured him with a kind smile. 

"The dens and the like should be fine," she stated, bumping his shoulder with her own companionably as she rose - hoping to have put his fears to rest.