She hums a little, thinking. The description comes to her more naturally in birdsong, that language being more evocative of imagery, but Xion wouldn't understand and so she attempts a strange sort of translation. She tells the other girl about the beach she'd been so, long, flat, white sand stretching on for miles, hot under the blazing sun. The ocean had been a clear, bright blue, almost green at time when it caught the light a certain way. She'd been there to meet her elder half-sister, to go and stay with her and her people for a short time one summer.

"They live out on the ocean," she tells Xion, distracted from their task as she gets caught up in the memory of her trip there. "On boats, and raised houses they build where the water's shallow enough. They only come to land to trade for supplies and fuel. Some of the children even get landsick."