Porcupine Ridge wo mögen sie wohl morgen sein

the woman is confident, airy and beautiful; all the things clem feels she is not. the girl watches her a moment, before realizing what she's doing and feel her cheeks warm. instead, her gaze follows the woman; squinting against the drizzle as she searches for a break in the clouds. "I'm from rusalka," she murmurs, finding a rift in the clouds through which one, two, stars can be seen for a moment before cloud cover obscures them once more. she'll have to wait a little while longer, yet. her tongue slips over her lips, nervous, though the knowledge that they shared a pack, once, is enough to keep her from excusing herself and dashing back home. "I like to come here, sometimes. to see the stars."