Oystercatcher Tide Pools rock lobster

a good treat, indeed. she watches him from under heavy lids, contemplative. when will i ever learn, she thinks, following lazily the drift of his gaze. his returned question is fair, earned, and something in it disturbs a weight she has been holding on to, though whether or better or worse remains to be seen. her eyes drop, tracking away from the lines of the trees and what they might hold, away from him. she lets her eyes close and holds for a moment. ghosts flicker against her eyelids. men and their plans. 

when she opens her eyes she hums, looking at govinda directly once again. "on my first visit to these lands, a man offered me shelter as his kept. after he left, i went in search of a different man, a priest. i suspect he had higher hopes for me than i myself," she muses, her tone turning slightly, apologetically, self-deprecating, "though eventually he too went away. i tried to follow, much too little, too late."

she shifts, drawing her shoulders up in an elegant shrug. "settling is not one of my strongest suits, i'm afraid. yet here i find myself again." in the teekons, perhaps, or before another man with half-formed plans for settling. "i suppose there is little harm in it, though. i've never seen the south, nor the shore," hamartia adds, a smile curving her mouth, wickedly if you squint. whether or not he figures out her self-invitation, well: she'll see the groves herself one way or another.