Jade Fern Grove i'm gonna be gone for good again

the sight of the other's eyes stops her for a moment - olive, that sweet-deceptive color, the frame of kinkajuú's windows of the soul. but the stranger doesn't resemble her lost-love otherwise, and the staccato of her heart finds its footing once again. 

she may not bear a resemblance but witchbaby has a weakness for olive eyes, she finds. "hey yourself," the starlet says, voice slow and sweet like her footfalls drawn closer. "y'from around here?"