Dragoncrest Cliffs heaven will be a grand piano of baked potatoes

Artaax answers her question so smoothly that she doesn’t notice the movement to look at her. Instead, she scans back over the branches one final time until she spots what he’s been looking at. She doesn’t say anything right away, watching for a long moment only to realize nothing is really happening. Her ears cup forward to try and listen for any movement but she doesn’t know much about birds and their nesting habits. The silence that lingers between them after he speaks isn’t necessarily uncomfortable but it does surprise her she can’t take her eyes off the target. Her brows knit together after a moment and without breaking her stare, she asks another question: “is there something in it?”