Wheeling Gull Isle — then the women got all loud

 partly cloudy, 55°F @Hua

sand sifted between Aoibh's toes as she navigated the coast, anything hinting the dreamlike presence of her emperess. she didn't look right here. her mother of the weald were insistent on blessing female puppies with deaf ears when the outside world was concerned. faeries need not be concerned of the world, for their only duty (for the ladies duty) was too care for the men as they were surperior.

surperiors her ass.

her daydreams of the court made her realize the blurred profiles of her birth parents, their names, and the weald the stars that criss-cross above them and the legends she hadn't yield her belief too. she'd be darned to admit the familiarty of their structures was comforting, normal. but the fae would give it up in a heartbeat if it meant to be dotted by the siren's kisses.