Hushed Willows Choose not a life of imitation

teya blinked in worry. the words were building at the back of her tongue, jamming there as if a beaver had built its domed den directly across the river of her throat. and so she was weirdly mute as izumi approached, wispy, beautiful down to each careful word and the offer of aid.
teya moved back to stand nearby; worthlessly, she added to herself with a bitter inward lash of hatred, but her rushwater stare flicked back and forth between bridget and the other with something like curiosity limning the line of her jaw.