they say she's a floatin' hell

Modesty blinked when the woman confirmed that she had been speaking to her, and then went on to compliment her. The smaller wolf looked like someone had painted her upside down, her colour growing darker towards her underside where most wolves lightened. It was striking in and of itself. Her burning garnet gaze left Modesty's skin hot where it passed and she did her best to quell the uncomfortable queasiness in her stomach, masking it with a smile. “You are quite stunning yourself,” She conceded with a half-smile pulling the right corner of her mouth up into an uncharacteristically shy grin. She was clearly out of practice, both at receiving compliments and giving them.

When the discussion turned to the fungi she had been checking out, her tail twitched slightly, the barest hint of a wave. “Recreationally,” she admitted with a sly edge to her grin. “I mostly take them with tea, but my healer has other uses for the ones I don't.” She pawed at the leaf litter, gently clearing it to note the moss-covered soil underneath. While the Isles rarely got wet enough to form large areas of moss like this, perhaps it could be pried away to form a garden base if they chose to try and cultivate their own> The soil beneath was right but loose, full of leaves and twigs in various states of decomposition, and had she imagined a slight temperature change between the air outside this willow curtain and within it? Or had that been her imagination?

She moved to check, parting the branches and explaining to the other woman. “My pack live out on the islands, the soil isn't quite right for growing fungi most of the time, but perhaps if I can figure out what makes this place favourable, I can replicate it at home and spare us all the swim. How about you? What do you prefer to use fungi for?” After all, she had said too.

“Speech.”