Empousa was busying herself exploring the western part of Boreas, curious as to what all hid within the land. And to take a break from the spars she had indulged herself with. Today she would collect some wheat grass, deciding to work on her crafting ability later. But first, she would need supplies! And wheatgrass loved growing near water after all! She would need some sticks too. Sticking to the edge of the paw-shaped lake, she nosed around looking for grass long enough and sticks bendy enough for what she had planned. She had come in the evening, the sun still high in the air and the sweltering heat was only now beginning to settle and cool down. She stretched passively as she began a pile of each thing. This would take a while, however. Maybe she would have some company stumble across her today too, she can only hope they aren't too boring—or complete assholes. 1/3 for Collect an item to be used in crafting something unrelated to other skills "Speach"

Venturing far from the borders wasn't the smartest thing to do when one was blind. She knew she wasn't far, but she also hadn't told anyone she was leaving either. After hearing the loud honking of some geese, her curiosity piqued enough to wander alone. Taking slow, careful step, Pythia enjoyed the sweltering day that left her panting. Maybe she could lay in the water if there was a shallow area.

A loud rustling of grass and reeds has her head pulling up, slightly flopped ears perking as she listens. At first, she doesn't realize its a wolf. Their movements are quiet and methodical as if they're gathering something. It's not until the wind shifts, carrying with it that of a stranger toward her twitching nose. Perhaps they're doing something interesting. Pythia thinks to herself, always eager to learn more.

Nosing her way through the foliage, Pythia approaches cautiously. When the scent gets strong enough, she pauses and lets out a puppy-like yip. "What're you doing?" The snow-white girl poses, head canting, getting straight to the point.

"speech"

coded by NachoMumma

The woman's head turned to face the pup who spoke to her, her eyes softened as she found the face of the pup. She could tell the pup in front of her was blind, so she was slightly curious about how she had ended up there. But first, she would answer the girl's question, "I am gathering sticks and this long wheatgrass to make wreaths out of! Just something easy to help hone my skills." She would say as she collected some more, her piles were coming along nicely but she still needed even more. It took a LOT of supplies to make things like this, especially since they need to become super compact when they are woven together so it doesn't fall apart. She brought some of the wheatgrass closer so the pup could smell it, "If you'd like you can help me collect it? I could use all the help I can get!" she would say softly, an almost caring tone coming through in her voice. Again she can't help it, children have never done anything wrong, and she can't help but have a soft spot for them all. "My name is Empousa by the way!" she would say happily, before turning around to grab more sticks and wheat grass. She was excited to get it all collected though! She turned back to the pup, waiting to see the girl's next move. 1/3 for Collect an item to be used in crafting something unrelated to other skills "Speach"

There is joyful pleasantness to the stranger's voice that Pythia isn't used to. It had always been rule number one to be wary of strangers - especially ones who were quick to be kind. Her ears fold backward slightly as the wheatgrass is brought closer to her, the pungent earthy smell invading her nostrils. Holding her breath as her head pulls back slightly, she nods in confirmation that she got a good smell.

"You should add lemongrass and cattails to your wreaths," she suggests, her nose turning toward the edge of the lake where both items could easily be found. Her ears push forward once more, listening to the hush of the lake that eddies along the shore. "I can help. Sticks are easy to find," Pythia's tone is still leveled, an ethereal hush that often sent shivers down most.

Turning to begin gathering the sticks, she pauses a beat as the woman finally introduces herself. "Empousa," she says quietly, inhaling deeply to mark the scent with the name. "I am Pythia," a flicker of a smile briefly strikes across her pale pink lips before she grabs a stick and brings it over to Empousa.

"speech"

coded by NachoMumma