Blackbeak Bluff hot ocean milk with dead animal croutons

the dusky angelette lays too, not quite a mimic of wb's stature but those red-raw toes get tucked away, something the scarlet witch finds immensely soothing. just looking at the poor scratched up thing makes witchbaby want to turn her teeth on her own flesh. "drageda," she repeats, gaze thoughtful as it turns over furi's silver-dusted shoulders toward the coast. that's the sort of information that would probably benefit another to know, given the founding of her own pack-home down the coast a bit away, but witchbaby merely files it away as geographical accoutrement. 

"ya think?" she wheedles, big-eyed curious. who wouldn't like ------- "what is your name?" the aesthete asks abruptly, her own line of thought crashed into the blank space where dusky-baby's name should have been.