Wheeling Gull Isle i’m not superstitious, but i’m a little stitious

Coelacanth met Maegi’s approach with a meek eagerness to please that belied her station. Tufted ears smoothed sleekly against her gently sloping skull as she emerged with inobtrusive slowness from the burbling waterway, but tipped forward with fluttering interest as a sigh, just on the edge of a whimper, winnowed from the girl’s ruined mouth. “Maegi,” she whispered, her silky susurrus overridden by `Io’s worry-riddled utterance. One finespun ear backturned upon her crown to acknowledge the svelte guardian’s approach, but Seelie did not take her eyes off the girl with the mismatched eyes. Like a beached sea lion, she dipped her body low and inched her muzzle forward until the barest tips of her whiskers brushed against Maegi’s sound forepaw. She didn’t want to frighten the guppy away — she didn’t! — but she craved the physical contact, which always seemed to make her comfort clear when her frail words failed. “Safe, Maegi. Peace,” she vowed softly.

“All Undersea make safe — and — um — ” she grasped wildly for Moorhen’s thinking word to convey that she was not finished with her thought. “Maegi ever safe, ever.” She hoped the girl would understand that no matter where she went, even if she decided to leave Undersea one day, there would always be a place for her here and she would never want for allies or friends.