Wheeling Gull Isle somewhere only we know

the silence was broken by words like a mirror shattered to the floor.

ears swiveled atop her crown as she turn to face the yearling of frost and sandstone. her design, though simply crafted, appeared as if it was molded with gentle, loving hands. she was pretty, her features accented by a youthfulness the sylph still wish she had.

unfamiliar with any ranks or authority other than the courtly gentleman who'd escorted her here, the sprite remained blissfully unaware of who stood before her. she only knew that with the strength of salt that had woven it's way into the girl's coat, that she had been here far longer than the fay.

lips parted, and she ushered out a soft "hello", voice hoarse from lack of use.