I was playing it cool

Pythia is nose deep in a bushel of heather when the stamping of paws and swiping of something in the air wafts over to her. The commotion of someone very upset about something brings the blind girl to raise her head, chin turning toward the ruckus of growls and grumbles. It clearly is coming from one of her siblings, but the wind isn't pushing in her direction so the scent doesn't quite reach over the perfume of the flowers around her.

Rather than wait to be whacked by whatever her sister is swinging, Pythia takes careful and calculated steps toward the noise. Testing each step to ensure she doesn't trip, Pythia makes her way over to Sagittarius with a raised brow and bunched up expression. "I'm not sure what you are doing, but it doesn't sound productive," Pythia comments, her speech rather proper for a pup her age. Standing there, paws neatly placed beside each other, she keeps her distance, just outside of the sound of the whirring of the stick.

"speech"