Wheeling Gull Isle after sundown, before sleeping, i am the worst

Missed much. Murmured in cryptic tone as they pressed back into the familiar form of Maegi. There was...something new. Something different. Yet something that felt wholly in place on the only figure that had ever nurtured the wilderness that lived within the lithe frame named Jakoul.

Lips parted a few times as they tried to find the words. How to describe time apart other than a hollow vastness that had spread over her existence for the last...how long? Moon cycles upon cycles.

Captive. Freed. Lost. A nervous swipe of a salmon tongue over inked lips. They cursed themselves for not better honing the language of the tongue shared between others.

Home? A tentative look around the island. Far from wooded, feather-cloaked home that had suffered loses of its own.