Sequoia Coast was there ever a trap to match the trap of love?

If there was any mannerism she'd donned, subconciously, from spending so much time with her beloved, it was that any once-faint snarkiness had since become more evident than it'd ever been before. Verx had, whether he wanted to or not, wrought up an impishly-spoilt side of her that few could glean from the astronomess. But here it was, right in her little sniff of "Perhaps," eyeing the boy sidelong as she resolutely focused her attention elsewhere. Aure herself didn't view him as an enemy; the time since their encounter had allowed her to regret what she'd said. Well, the whole soulless thing and all.

Then again, could just be horomones flaring up; that was better than reminiscing on her last encounter with the Rusalkan urchin. "Wandering again?" His attempt at jesting didn't go unheeded and, despite whatever she felt towards him in this heartbeat — and she soon withdrew back behind the guise of a quieted female, although her slim brows did flick upward. Regardless of affiliation, her eyes, too, did course over his dark, lean body as if to pluck some sort of hidden hurt that refused to be seen; physical, anyways.

In the meantime, Aure did her best to mime his deadpan expression, but she truly wasn't made for it, try as hard as she might to seem emotionless. There would always be that quirking, soft curl to the corner of her lips; an unyeilding gleam in her argent gaze. The fact that she was trying to lessen her thick accent for his favor was obvious. Even if she tried to match the flavorless tone of his voice, "Home too depressing, as well?" for all the world, she still looked, sounded... so Aure.