Moonspear why is my spirit so silver and pale

She was passed from one to the next like the sweater of an old man donated to Goodwill after his death, destined to collect dust in a corner for the rest of its existence. This one was not unlike her mother, but somehow there was a difference. This one was noisier, and more chipper... she blurted words that meant nothing to Mira, and she stared on dryly, face poker. What intentions did she have here, smiling like that? Mira's gaze did not stray from the stranger, observant and careful as a child could be.