Stavanger Bay or if i'll see you again?

she was the sunset given flesh. 

soft golds and fiery ginger atop a base of snowfall -- it was as if the acolyte had gazed upon sunrise over the tundra of elennanórë.

something sharp burned in her throat. inadequacy. it curled through her hotly not unlike shame; shifting, twisting, to hide as many of the scars as she could. the ghost's gaze dropped for only a second, before lifting her chin as aquamarines clashed with citrine again. 

if any of the memories had returned, it was the chill of lóminorë reminding her to never appear weak. 

he'd taught her that much at least.

the winterborne's throat bobbed, swallowing heavily as she forced her limbs to still. 

nothing about her softened as she watched the woman approach, though a flash of recognition swam in the arctic waters of her gaze -- if only for a moment.

the woman she'd tracked, determined to save, if things went south in gryfalcon's keep.

after a pregnant pause of deliberation, gravel ground from the spectre's burned throat.

"ia." her ears merely flickered in response to the question -- uncertain how to answer it. the cock of her head was almost feral, as if she didn't understand the words at all. there was tint of unabashed curiosity there, try as she might to conceal it.

do i look like a person to you?