Stavanger Bay i can see you're lost like me

somehow, the ghost didn't think the words were meant literally. not entirely, at least.

something in the way andr said them seemed to imply more. 

the curve of her lips softened, scars tugging and throat bobbing as she swallowed against a swell of emotion. 

opalite eyes traced the way the sepia male's lips moved, the way his features lit under the moon as he seemed to relax fully. 

fresh guilt plagued her.

how often had the islander seen him this way? how long had they both been fighting to survive, together and apart? 

she could not recall the last time she'd seen andr light hearted, smiling. laughing with ease. 

she vowed to see more of that, soon.

now, the wildling watched him -- contemplative, seemingly unaware that it might be rude to stare for so long.

at last, the words sighed from her lips, "ennas i tér olë merin nyaldë." she gave him a small, wistful smile. 

fate did love its cruel jests. she'd remembered to speak, could finally answer his questions, but could not speak his language -- not much, anyways.

translation since I never learned how to do the hover thing: "there is so much I want to tell you."