Noctisardor Bypass wore my language like an amaranth

this roused her; the sudden presence of her father’s voice reeled in desultory sea-drift thoughts and her head lifted from its perch. his mention of ospreys bid the entirety of her attention. her eyes cast about the verdure of the century-old trees in search of the river hawks. 

did anything at all escape the graf’s notice?

peering down at him, she blinked, slowly processing the anticipation of a response from herself. she shifted her weight. "oh! ähm— nicht sicher..” whereon a thoughtful furrow tamped her brow, contemplation tarrying awhile on her imagination before falling away from quirked lips: “vielleicht haben sie schon namen?”