She didn't often become attached to places, but this little gulley had wormed its way into her heart. Siobhan had set up a temporary home here - well, a base camp of sorts - through the end of the summer and fall. Now that the winter mornings were bitterly cold and her breath clouded in her face, she was ready to move on. She had amassed quite a supply of pigments and paints she'd stowed in the halved skins of fruits and hidden in small divots in the ground outside of her makeshift den that she covered with leaves to keep safe. It was time to say goodbye to all she'd built and head south for warmer weather. The last of her large canvases was spread before her, a tanned doe hide. The rest were smaller portions of stiff bark, tanned beaver hides, or the smallest of all - an itty bitty squirrel hide canvas.

Sio figured she would savor this last warm winter day. Already she could feel the afternoon begin to chill as it headed towards evening. A cloud passed across the sun, dimming the beautiful natural light that often seemed to make the greenery in the gulley glow from within. Everything was stiff and brown and trodden-down by other migrating animals now. It had been so beautiful here just a month ago. Taking a deep breath, Siobhan dipped a deft little paw into a verdant green pigment and began to sketch the gully how she loved it best: in full bloom at the height of summer.

Why he hadn't headed back up north was somewhat beyond him. Perhaps it was the daunting glow of the forests or the urge to stay away from large predators. It wasn't something he was tasked at asking himself lately but would revisit when he was in a better mood. While the grasses itched at his thick coat, they had turned brown and yearned for more sunlight and perhaps some rain. Passing by dry creekbeds and wide valleys, he watched as birds flew further south for warmer climates. A nice sunny beach did sound tempting. Briskly following well-trodden paths to keep his blood circulating, the mottled man dipped into the valley that was still dotted with flowers. Somewhat curious to what the place looked like in full bloom, his attention was turned from his thoughts at the scent of someone else. Hesitating, Gil turned his yellow gaze around until it landed on a smaller grey and black female. Seeing her hunched over something made him all the more curious. Bothering others for the fun of it sure seemed to be his forte lately. Approaching steadily, he cleared his throat with a thick plume of chilly breath. Keeping his distance just enough so that he could see her canvas on the ground, he tilted his head softly. "What're you doing?" Gil asked with his deep rumble of a voice blunt and to the point. There was no room for small talk in his repertoire.

She was fully engrossed in her work. When she painted, she created her own universe - on the canvas and in her mind. Sio hummed quietly to herself as she worked, sketching in the wild colors of the gulley as she loved it best. A decidedly gruff, masculine voice broke the spell of her concentration. Siobhan took a deep breath to steady herself. He hadn't caught her completely off guard, so she managed to avoid triggering a complete episode. Her shoulders seized uncomfortably but she didn't lose control of the rest of her muscles and body. Turning slowly to face him, she moved aside to reveal her painting-in-progress. "Why, I'm painting," she said plainly. His bluntness was well met. Siobhan didn't spend much time around others these days. Every new social situation brought out a different shortcoming - was she speaking too loud? Too soft? Was she making enough eye contact? Oh, right, eye contact. Slowly she raised her pink eyes to meet his and blinked.

Standing there, feeling slightly awkward and imposing, he watched her. At the moment she realized he was there, Gil saw her shoulders do a weird motion, but he thought better to not point it out. As she shifted over so he could view the painting she was working on, a quiet rumble left his throat. Unsure what painting was, he looked up at the valley. Glancing back and forth between artwork and scenery, he could sort of see the connection. Meeting her eyes with his own yellow ones, he nodded. "It looks nice," Gil adds, unsure as to why her pink eyes stared so boldly at him. Feeling nervous now that he had disturbed her, he shuffled his weight from left to right in an attempt to be comfortable. "Do you do this often?" He asks, his voice calm and genuinely curious.

Siobhan looked away shyly when he shifted on his feet. She wasn't used to being the imposing one, but she found she liked it. It made her feel just a little bit safer. If she could remain in tight control of the situation, there was hardly any chance she'd have an episode at all. Settling into herself just a little bit more, Sio smiled warmly when he complimented her. "It does, doesn't it?" She wasn't afraid to accept his praise. Painting was something she'd gotten quite good at it with practice. Long hours spent in isolation as her parents fussed over her and kept her in the den had given her ample of time to practice. If she had not been sleeping or eating, she had been painting. She'd taken up a more nomadic lifestyle now, and while she enjoyed seeing everything the world had to offer, it was difficult to carry supplies like these over distances... which was why she had come to say goodbye to her little stash for the winter. "I do, yes. Unfortunately I'm headed south for the winter soon, so I'm trying to use up what I can before moving on," she explained. "I have plenty of supplies - I can show you how, if you'd like?" She added. "I'm Siobhan. I don't get company often, but I always welcome another artist working by my side." As long as you don't talk too much. But you don't seem the type. Half the fun of painting was the blissful, long silences she could lose herself in.

Gil nodded in quiet agreement that heading south for the winter was a good idea. While this winter wasn't as nasty as the last, its effects had been discomforting. With long nights, odd fireflies, and a strange whisper calling at all hours of the permanent darkness, Gil was glad to have a moment of company. Her question though had caught him off guard. Teach him? How to paint? The idea at first almost made him scoff. He was no painter. Burly and oftentimes aggressive, his dexterity for precise things wasn't a part of his talents. Mulling over the offer, he nodded again. "Yes, I think I'll give it a try," Gil responds quietly, unsure if she would be okay if he spoke any louder. "My name is Gilgamesh," he offers in return as he moves to sit beside her so that they were still at a comfortable distance, but he would be able to reach her supplies. "So, uh, how do you do this painting thing?" his voice is nervous as he tilts his head with yellow eyes staring quizzically at her artwork.