Wheeling Gull Isle kiss me like that

Ŭmma’s voice was consistently a soft gray, woven through with a barely discernible ribbon of washed out blue; but when Koi was physically touching her, she could feel colors that glittered in vibrant gem tints, lurking beneath the whitewater but never breaking free. It comforted and grounded her to be pressed against her mother in this way, enough that she could pad forward without fear or trepidation to stop before one black-stockinged forelimb. Just in case it also made her feel better to be touched, the tiny puppy attempted to place both of her paws solidly on `Io’s left forepaw, and if she was not rebuffed, would tip her head back as far as necessary to look up at her. If, however, the woman did not seem receptive to her touch, Koi would recoil with an equal amount of respective distance.