Flycatcher Downs you might listen to too much jimmy buffett

indra watched, a desolate sort of impassivity crossing her features. nebula was experiencing the very same simultaneous self-doubt and conviction that indra was, and she observed with a knowing sadness. like nebula both laurel and indra had sworn up and down, and crossed their tracks over and over -- and nothing had come of it.

at length she sighed and nodded, but a hollowness tinged her tone. "it's getting late -- you don't need to keep looking. at some point we have to sleep."