Herbalists' Cache hold my cup

it is you who feels insulted.
star eater does not move, does not waver. she only watches, tilting her head slightly as if he is something to be studied. something to be understood.
why? her voice is smooth, edged with something wry. afraid you might actually enjoy his stories?
her tail flicks, slow, measured. she knows what she is doing, knows the weight of her words. knows him.
blackfell has always been a storm contained, but she? she has always been the wind that pressed against it, testing where it might break.