Cerulean Cape jello mold

I did an edit to my previous post; I messed up the dialogue tags. Sorry about that!

The boy bristled, and Moorhen bristled warily back at him without moving from her sphinx-like position over the stick.

Then I lie, she replied, annoyed to be challenged over her parentage, but patiently enduring the boy's aggressive displays. This does not hurt you. If you will not believe, you should go away. If I lie, what can it matter?

She hoped he would stay. She wanted to know about him — his name, at least, but anything he was willing to share beyond it as well. Already, little shreds of sentiment had attached themselves to him in her mind — were the cousins? Siblings? Was he her nephew, to look so like her uncle Szymon?

That would please her. It would please her greatly to know that he'd found love again.