our dead drink the sea

Levi made a face, feeling rather insulted by her insinuation. Admittedly, his sabres were a little too large for his slight frame, most of his features had a sort of vibe that he hadn't grown as tall as he was meant to. But they weren't entirely uncommon in his family either, not so bad they looked like he'd stuck them beneath his lips like some wannabe vampire. He'd never really been the sort to indulge in deep, philosophical debates on what it meant to be real, whether the stars in the sky really were something tangible, something he could touch if he got close enough. So yeah, as far as he was concerned he was alive and real, and growing all the more miffed with each word that passed her lips.

He shifted his weight, the sand crunching quietly beneath his paws. He barely and I mean BARELY resisted the urge to say something snippy like that can be arranged if you'd like, or do you want to go back to drowning? Instead he pressed his lips thin, his tail flicking in discontent. It wasn't overly personal, he didn't like most people. Though her questions were kinda dumb.

He didn't even dignify the whole are they real comment with a response.

"Not yet. You've washed up on Boreas."