Sequoia Coast Like whirlpools

Caiaphas did not miss the light smile that played on the female's visage -- though what for, was entirely unknown to the female. The manner in which Psamathe responded suggested Caiaphas had not answered poorly, yet she could not shake thought that she had chosen the wrong inflection in which to answer.

She mutely followed behind the female as she gestured for her to follow - her gaze darkly traced the jutting cliffs in which she delightfully imagined throwing many enemies off of. Despite the destructive and whimsical thoughts, her expression remained doleful.

The other female's certainty was not shared - and likely, for very different reasons. Caiaphas was nowhere near as confident as the intrepid scyer, and she missed the bemused twinkle in the female's eyes at the notion of the strand being taken from them. It was not known to Caiaphas in the same way it was known to Psamathe -- and likely, it never would be.

Psamathe asked her if she had been marking. Caiaphas had not. She briefly entertained the delightful idea of lying, but elected against it. She chose instead to answer in a half-truth. "No. I was worried it is not my place?"