Swiftcurrent Creek i am not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion

"mahler," the man rejoined automatically, his usual loquacious self. aria. a soliloqy of notes. how had she come by such a name? she was devoid of color, but the elegance of her bearing tugged at his sense of aesthetic, and therefore he found her more intriguing than before. "i was on my vay to visit chusi and her kinder," the gargoyle revealed, not realizing he had slipped in his grasp of the common language. and while perhaps aria would not take his flat monotone as an invitation, it was what the dour man meant.