Hushed Willows all that we mourn is already here

He looks up at the sky where she’d taken to watching but seemed confused, as if she hadn’t known what she was doing. Her brows burrow together as she watches him, glancing up and back down, and blinks when he asks the question. She is not often question about the sky and her fondness for it, that she once pictured herself running from star to star one day (a memory sudden washing ashore) and she smiles sheepishly and shrugs.
 
“Just the sky. I-I like the stars,” she informs and curls her tail to her side. “I d-don’t know you,” she informs a beat later. Maybe he knows Okeanos. “I’m Qilaq.”