Sea Lion Shores This bridge was written to make you feel smitten

huff. reed further crinkles her nose disastefully at the woman's.. joke? probably not a joke, actually. there's no accounting for taste. smoothing her expression out she murmurs, "suit yourself," eyeing the sealion nearby as if it is about to offer itself up as an unappetizing course and force her to eat it. 

(truthfully, though, this wraen is probably right -- reed can just afford to be picky.)

her question is much more tasteful. "i do," the titian girl answers, indicating the island off-shore with an elegant nose-led gesture. "the island over there -- oh, it's a little hard to see, maybe, but there's a bridge you can cross when the tides aren't high. my pack is named undersea." she pronounces undersea with as much pomposity as she can manage -- as if she were naming holy ground and not a very small pack on a very small island very few are likely to have heard of. to her it is as good as holy, anyway. "i don't go off-island often, but i have a friend who left us some time ago, and i thought i'd try to visit her, maybe. how about yourself?" she asks, lifting her brows curiously. there's no pack smell clinging to wraen that she can tell -- but she knows so very little about life inland, as it were.