Silverlight Terrace rule number two, just dont get attached to somebody you could lose

pleased that the girl greets her in turn, witchbaby fluffs up slightly, pink eyes glinting under moonlight. the pitch grants them an anonymity - oh sure, there's details she can make out, the pretty lines of the other's form, the - is that green? tint of her eyes - and she dons it like a cloak, something tight in her chest coming loose. in the moonlight she's not witchbaby haunted by demons, she's wb, the entity born new by the borders of the feather-scented woods. "per'aps," she echoes, voice girlish, and grins into the dark. "ain't been 'round here before but it sure is pretty," the starlet adds, taking a step closer, never so mindful of things like personal space.

closer-still the witch can drink in more detail - the wolf girl is small for her kind, mottled-dark. she can't make out the expression she wears, but maybe she doesn't need to - and she thinks the other probably can't make out hers either. "y'from around here?" she asks, tilting her head with eyes wide-bright, the intensity of her focus on the other.