Corbie had had a busy morning so far. She had a batch of mead ready to rebottle, but the sheep had been nothing but trouble since the sun went up. They'd finally gotten them driven into one of the enclosures just to keep them out of trouble. She'd retreated to where she kept her mead supplies just over the border into the dancefloor and was looking forward to relaxing and getting work done. She pulled her fresh bottles and corks out, as well as the big jug that was ready for bottling. She had water about to come to a boil in a fire to sterilize the bottles - it needed only a few more moments time.

Artisan had decided to stay the hell away from the tropical east coast until the spring storms had passed, being caught in one hurricane was more than enough excitement for the season. Rather then head directly home back to the beach, he continued further west. There was a time where he was trying to hit up every region of western Boreas to explore, but then the raid happened, the kidnapping, the nights of booze-assisted recovery... it was about time to get back to it.

He'd already gotten the cool looking territories out of the way, what was left now were the bland and boring ones. The Dancefloor of the Gods had a cool name, but nothing fancy to look at. He'd been here two minutes and already he was bored by the expansive grassy plain with not a tree in sight. Roaming his gaze across the grasses, he did manage to spot something of interest. Trotting over to the stranger, he opened with a warm and amicable smile. "Hello there!" The woman was doing something with a jug, and Artisan was well aware what a jug like that signified. Would she be willing to share?

Corbie glanced up as a voice called out to her. The look of interest and open friendliness on the man's face made her smile back at him. "Hello there. I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Corbie." Just then the water began to boil, and she sighed. "I'm afraid you've come just as I'm in the middle of something. I'm trying to bottle this mead and everything today has been so much harder than it should be that I'm a bit frustrated. I don't suppose you could lend a paw putting the bottles in to sterilize?" The extra set of paws would be nice, but frankly she was just glad for the company. She quickly began lowering the bottles into the hot water.

The woman gave her name, explaining that he'd come at a poor time and that she could use a little bit of help. Artisan as not the type to turn away a wolf in need, and while he wasn't really familiar with the process of bottling mead, he definitely saw the importance of figuring it out. "Artisan Aracari, at your service." He introduced himself in turn, shuffling up to her side to observe her fire. Carefully he unhooked the beaded bracelets upon his forelimbs (not willing to risk the steam of boiling water from ruining them somehow) and moved to grab another of her bottles.

"Do you live nearby? So far I'm not that impressed with the territory, could use a few trees." The pirate gave a soft chuckle, pulling his gaze off of the bottles while he worked to squint out further across the dancefloor. Nope. Still boring. A lazy river ran through the center of the territory, but it was probably the most unique thing it could boast about. At the very least, Artisan assumed there was prey galore here. A wide, expansive open land full of grasses and fresh water, it must have brought in all the does.

Corbie chuckled. "It is rather plain isn't it? I suppose that's why it's called a plain, though. It's a pleasure to meet you, Artisan." Carefully pulling the sterilized bottles out of the water, she lined them up. "This cider is a little new for drinking, but I have some older bottles here too if you want to try some." She reached into the cache behind her and pulled out a bottle, offering it to him. "It might at least make the territory more bearable. Could you tip that jug for me, first? I'll hold the bottles while you pour into them? This part would be a bit more difficult if you tried the mead first," she added teasingly.

Corbie's reply brought from him a chuckle of his own. It was indeed quite fitting to it's name, the plainest of plains. He sighed, giving a final glance to the empty expanse of flatland and instead tilting his muzzle up to the sky. At least without tree cover he had a clear view of above, but even the blue sky was boring, with not a cloud in sight. Where did a wolf who was wandering this so-called dancefloor find any shade in the summer? Perhaps if the water was shallow enough and cool it would be a decent substitute to soak in, but Artisan had had enough of water for the week after his hurricane encounter in the mangroves.

He had gotten distracted with his observing, but the offer of mead pulled him out of it swiftly. Retrieving the bottle from her, he placed it upon the grass beside him and gave it a love tap on it's top with his pawpad. "Oh, you're a saint. But I suppose you're right, better to finish this job while I can still can." He agreed playfully, moving to grab hold of the jug as she requested. It definitely was more of a two wolf job, and at her signal he began to slowly pour the liquid into the bottles she held.

As the bottles were filled Corbie corked each one and set it aside to be set in the cool cache later when they were all ready to go. She preferred to keep them here by themselves rather than somewhere that she needed to store anything else, since bottled cider continued to ferment a bit and had a tendency to... well, explode, occasionally. When the last bottle had been filled and only the dregs were left in the jug, Corbie grinned at her helper. "Well, Artisan, I think you have more than earned this bottle of mead. Maybe you will come back in a few months to try this batch? In exchange you could spread the word that we have it for trade," she added slyly. If she was going to do as she'd told Aryn, and start gathering a community here, being known for her crafts would be an important start.