Moonstone Quarry A clothing for the soul divine

agana, the woman named herself, and fern committed the moniker to memory easily enough. she gives the place a name, too, one that sounds entirely unfamiliar, and yet certainly enough to pique her interest. "what's a quarry?" she questions, the word staccato on her tongue. 

"i'm not much good at relaxation." she thought it rather wasteful; though she'd hardly say so aloud. she knew her manners well enough, stable childhood or not. "moonstone—it's pale, shiny, right? a little blue-ish?" the might have been the reflection of the pool, though the stone had had a certain quality to it that had the name fit rather well.