Etoile had been busy staring at the sky, which no longer made the crew uncomfortable but wasn't so common that they had cast aside their mockery of her. She couldn't hear their snide remarks about being a weathervane and hardly noticed their shoving cups at her with wet tea leaves at the bottom...
"the wing of the sea is the wave;
the wave of the sky is the rain;
the salt of the rain falls as hail;
and the hail of hate rains in shots;
the shot of the soul is the bell;
bell without time is the ballad;
ballad that craves no beloved:
the love that names not its ballad.
a bridle-less horse...
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