Moonsong Glacier I sip, I sip, I'm stumbling home

"are we friends, dutch?" she questioned with a teasing resonance and raised brow.

she did not consider him such, as she was certain he did not consider her one either. and yet his choice of words suggested otherwise. she assumed it to be a mindless statement, but picking apart words was her bread and butter.

words held more power than fangs ever could.

she did not stray her sight from the seals, a salmon tongue slithering between lips to lick the edges of a pale snout.