Ankyra Sound i keep on dancing through the quicksand

treepie's laughter was enough to coax a small smile from sobeille. rarely did her jokes land; she appreciated treepie's sense of humor sometimes aligned with her own.

sobeille's gaze flickered as she noticed a shadow slip across treepie's face. it was one of those unintentional slips -- the casting of a great rope that once loosened, could not be pulled back. she could try to make light of it, but she knew treepie wasn't stupid -- if anything, tiuttuk had proven the opposite.

rather baldly, sobeille explained. it fell. i thought my family was strong an' loyal. but along comes a little trouble and -- she pantomimed a poof with a resigned shrug. my maman died, my tante decided to walk out to de sea and leave us, and den one by one de rest all go. who knows where? not 'ere.

not where dey belong. darkness took hold of her tone, tincturing her voice with strange bitterness. so if i be namin' my children after dem, per'aps i be invitin' blackness into deir future.

still she could not decide -- cast them aside or honor their memory. resentment hurt a little less than the truer feeling she felt, which was deep-seated abandonment. her expression panned from the mirthless treeline back to tiuttuk. what did she think of such things?