Hushed Willows reaching up to the maze of light in the sky

The answer she received satisfied her in a way, yet predictably left more to be desired; it was nonetheless a foot in the door. Many of us have, She offered, finding herself warming by fractions to the stranger. Loss slept close at her side, and regret had long haunted the space above her. The world often held nothing but ice for their kind.

A smile tugged at one side of her mouth at the returned questioning. This girl was not soft or dull, and she sensed she would not be content to allow the inkstain to prod without some return. You're intriguing, And clearly her interest had not been misplaced; some faint glimmer within her whispered hopes of a kindred spirit. It had many times before, yet often she found herself mistaken. She rather disliked being wrong. And I'm often curious.
I've traveled far, and for a long time. I've heard many stories, but many choose not to share, She peered at her curiously, wondering how her own honesty would be taken— and the offer to follow. My place isn't to judge or reveal these stories; I only hope to understand. I may be able to offer you something in return. A story of my own, or advice maybe.
She added roguishly, For you, I would consider other requests.