Ankyra Sound jòn

Grackle hadn't a home; belonged to no one. Part of her wondered if, perhaps, this strange woman could belong to the sea.
But perhaps that was selfish; Sapphique was a place of her own blood, was it not? And who was she to decide such things when she had not been handed the proverbial torch?
Either way, a devious grin touches the cream-colored lips. Coraline could allow herself this self-centeredness, just this once. She presses closer to the well-worn slate shoulder; this woman Grackle is taller, much more so than her, and a flutter twists at her stomach. Maybe you could meet my sisters, den.
Possessiveness brews; but not over land previously perceived as her own.