Ocean's Breath Plateau We're one

Maude felt her mind drift from thoughts of Ferahgo to the strangely insistant thought that butterflies must taste good, or, if not, she must taste it regardless. She couldn't say why, If someone examined her brain they would associate it with the pervasive obsession and dependence Maude has on one person or one goal, but there were no therapists here. Maude was left to let her emotions take hold and center on the golden insect. Maude turned her head away from Osprey and looked at the butterfly as it fluttered away, her focus all on the insect rather than the gray woman beside her. Aye, but plants ain't meat, an' people seem t'be eatin' them alls the time, eh? She tried to shift her focus as the butterfly grew fainter and fainter in the distance, but she seemed to find the golden flash no matter how hard she tried to focus her eyes on the woman. Still 'as a taste, though. Good o' bad. Still tastes like somefin'.