Ankyra Sound rasanbleman

"we donnae have any," mireille said with a smirk that flew across her face. "sobeille miette, i suppose you be wantin' to go off an' make some, den?" the obsidian teased, though she was not quite sure it was a joke at all.
ambition beat in sobeille, and it was something she saw in herself as banked down, latent. peace had come. peace had been kept. but what cost did peace exact?
"do fightin' be some'tin' you want to do?" her eyes found the sea. steadying; eternal.