Margins are fine in folk.
"Pretty" is often the cloying bedfellow of "fey", while "twee" often shares a humble cot with "interesting". But Clarke and Walker are careful about which side of the bed they sleep on. This is neither twee nor fey. Debts are clear: there's a pendant atmosphere of Sandy-ish medievalism here, not least in Clarke's determination to write her own songs and sing 'em high and clear. But they are not slaves. Extremely compelling.