Fireflies don't taste good

Gwynevere smiled a little with a soft chuckle at his response. She supposed that was all she could really ask for from her headstrong brother. She wondered how many times she'd end up patching him up throughout the length of their lives together, but she supposed it didn't matter. She always would. She couldn't defend them the way they could defend her, but at least she could keep them healed up when they came back from their fights. She knew he was still healing and didn't quite have the energy to get into trouble just yet so she'd savor these days of not having to worry about him running head first into some kind of danger for a while.

She shook her head when he asked if she knew what the fireflies were. "They seem like fireflies, but... like they're not quite right," she mused while she watched one of them for a moment. She gave a nod when he mentioned how they were weird. "They are... I was out in god's garden the other day before Artorias put the lock down on anyone leaving at night and I saw some rabbits that were glowing like fireflies so it's not just the fireflies that are being effected. A lot of my plants have been glowing too." She had no idea what was causing it all, but it was far more unsettling to her than it seemed to be to Rudy.

Gwyn refocused her mint and lavender eyes on her brother when he mentioned being careful about talking and how disgusting they tasted. She scoffed and smirked with a bit of laughter at his silliness, appreciating how he could always make some kind of joke no matter the situation. "Thanks for the advice." She glanced up toward the path she was taking to the greenhouse and decided she'd probably feel better with someone else with her. "Hey, Rudy, would you walk to the greenhouse with me? I just need to harvest one of the herbs for a poultice. It won't take me more than a couple minutes."

"Gwynevere Carpathius"