Wheeling Gull Isle i got a prayer that'll make you theirs now

the sea? she tilts her head, her eyes returning to the tide as it laps the sand gently. the sharpness of her expression yields to something genuinely interested -- only for a moment! -- before returning to her brother. "good," she says, deciding she approves of his choice after all. though it's definitely not as refined as her pursuits, in a way it suits him. at his question she puffs up proudly. "plants, mostly," reed answers, "their purposes -- i'm planning to be a medic." it is, of course, practical, useful, and important to study these things, and they are fortunate enough to live on an island that provides bountiful herbs to her purposes. "so if you sprain an ankle dancing," she adds, smirking, "i'll patch you up."