Spring, in its early days, was glorious. Clear skies above and a gentle, cool breeze wafting across the grasses which in turn tickled her mahogany paws as she stood. It was almost enough to clear her head, almost enough to pull back the curtains and reveal what had been so long suppressed. And yet stray thoughts and a stray mind oft pull her around again, back into the murky depths and thick fog that allowed her to live out the day-to-day. Interactions are few and far between for her, most either steer clear with the natural sense that wolves tend to have or, once hearing her own disjointed words were quick to extricate themselves and be on their way. Crimson painted girl, so far at least, seems to be an exception to this and from somewhere in the far reaches of her mind Adelia is thankful for this, for at her core she is still a wolf and still longs for companionship in some way. At least Raven seems to understand her oddly worded response and perhaps that is enough to drive her forward.

Her slender head tilts the opposite direction as the other she-wolf responds, taking her time to understand the words and almost tangibly chewing on the response before she can form them herself. “Aye, fortunes more oft cruel than noble are so settled on one whom deserves no less,” she says finally, her voice high and rhythmic as if always reciting some rehearsed speech. Her actions here have been repeated before and most likely would again for reasons even she was not entirely sure of. Raven introduces herself and for a moment her own chocolate head dips low as if in greeting, but the movement is jerky and stays down longer than might be deemed necessary, cream touched ears laid back against her skull. It is almost a twitch, uncontrollable and unavoidable always accompanied by flashes of another life gone by, one that certain parts of her are determined to keep subdued.

Eventually her head raises gracefully once more, azure and lilac eyes blinking as she notices the other girl staring at the remnants of rosemary scattered about in the dirt. Her gaze falls once more over Raven’s dark shoulder as she looks back at Adelia, as if afraid almost to meet her eyes. Her somewhat disproportionally large ears do flick forward however at her questions showing her attention even as her head begins to bob excitedly in response. “Rosemary, that’s for remembrance, pray you… And there’s pansies, that’s for thoughts. Rue for you and even some for me, we may call it the herb o’ grace even er’ the chamomile for when she must not chance to dream…” She trails off again, her words becoming thoughts even as they continue to race on.

Again she starts, like a shock running through her willowy frame that makes her muscles twitch under her fur and she takes two steps forward, her long tail still waving in odd beats behind her. “Of Makers and Men and all that we must know, for dust returns to dust and upon remains we all sow.” Only for the duration of her words does she turn her two-toned gaze to Raven’s face, still not quite looking her in the eyes but perhaps right above them with arrant passion. After finishing she sits back on her haunches, small feet close together and a smile playing on her lips despite the intensity that her words had held.