Conversation is often difficult for the girl, for more than the obvious reasons. Even before the incident she had been different than others of her own age, but none of that mattered now… not with everything that had happened. It’s a miracle she had lasted as long as she had on her own with no one to protect her from others of more devious natures; and yet she remains whole throughout it all. Well, mostly. Somewhere in the back of her mind she can sense the consternation coming from Raven, the concern that something wasn’t quite right in the slight girls mannerisms, but it does not process quite enough to actually affect her own interpretation of the dark girl.

Her entire demeanor changes when Raven mentions healing, excitement sparking in her two-toned eyes even as the words fall hurriedly from her mouth. There is a passion, remnants of a life past that flare and bring the words, light and airy, past her cream lined lips. She notices that Raven seems glad of this, the gentle wag of the other’s tail matched by her own until she steps forward. In that moment as Raven approaches Adelia stills, her body falling almost entirely motionless save for a twitching of her fur across slender shoulder blades and down her buff back. For a fleeting moment she considers running, thinking that this stranger may suddenly intend her harm though there seemed to be no reason for that, but she remains though instincts rail against the choice.

Nothing happens however and Raven merely presents her face, torn quite ferociously before her own nose. Her nose twitches at the scent of dried blood and whatever wolf had laid this mark upon her face as well. For a moment her violet and golden gaze flicks from the wound to Raven’s own eyes as she wraps her mind around the request before refocusing back again. Tenderly, tentatively her small head stretches forward so the wetness of her nose just barely scrapes the scabbed injury before her pink tongue flicks out over it twice. Abruptly she pulls back as if still tasting the wound, her large ears flicking like radars in opposing directions as her head begins to bob. “Aloe…or, or Marigold…” she mutters, eyes flitting about the area as she searched the surrounding area.

Humming lightly to herself she trotted off, her steps erratic, slender legs sometimes crossing over one another almost as if she was drunken until she finally spots a grouping of the brilliantly golden flowers growing in a small bunch. Reaching down she yanks up a mouthful before veritably skipping back, still humming some off key tune in the back of her throat. She stops before Raven again, dropping a few of the stems before taking the rest in her mouth and chewing until a fine paste was made. Finally she steps toward Raven once more, layering the thick paste atop the laceration before nodding and stepping back once more. “Twice or thrice more shall see the turning tide,” she says while nosing the remainder of the flowers toward the dark feet of the other girl before plopping back on her own haunches and sighing as if exhausted.