Greatwater Lake rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek

@Kitsch <3 lmk if you need the location changed!

 from the river she moves steadily south, glad the glacier-prick on her leg has not given way to anything worse than a bit of unsightly scab - whatever medicinal magic the snowy-white man she'd met performed on her worked beautifully. the river bleeds out to a lake, large and inviting, and witchbaby pauses: in the snow and ice it looks like a giant gem. is she truly becoming magpie-like, flitting about from glittering cave to glitzy quarry, all the while finding nothing but empty promises of glamor? and oh, does it even matter, the starlet wonders, as long as she keeps moving.

 the cold is becoming oppressive by days, nipping at her heels, heeding her return to the safety of the plateau. as if safety has been the starlet's concern at any point - but she concedes that her trip is well-timed for winter will force her hand. there are plenty of unturned stones awaiting her back by the sea - but her heart is still out of sync, beating for the girl in the firefly fields (and maybe the sparkle-shine of the teekon's glimmering masses reminds her of the glint of fly-fire in kinkajuú's eyes last they met, and maybe this excursion is one last attempt to find her, one last hurrah that fate could be so cruel as this -!)

 her lanky form pauses by the lip of the lake, observing the fragile ice absently. there's a metaphor in it, but for once, she's too morose to search, taking this still moment of reprieve to feel the full weight of her lachrymosity.