Sun Mote Copse my muses, my bruises

jr bobs her head in acknowledgement, though she could not say she felt the nostalgic calling of home. her's was to be with family, yes, but also more selfish. idly, she wonders if the fact that it was not homesickness for family that brought her to the copse meant there was something inherently wrong with her.

grateful that she can't speak, she keeps these musing to herself.

-i... don't know,- jr admits a bit sheepishly. -i only just recently joined the copse myself.- and so jr assumes that everything she knows, orca knows.