Clara hummed softly as she stared at her flower covered desk. Drago was focused on making vines as per instruction. Or he was naping with his eyes open, having given up on the task. Clara couldn't tell.

"[color=92278f]Aley iska threuvl.[/color]" The young woman sang at her desk. Her hum becoming a song. All her plants russtled then settled back down leaning just ever so slightly towards Clara as if she had become their own personal sun. The girl's eyebrows drew together as she studied the movement.