I was playing it cool

Pythia is patient because she has to be. Impatience with her condition would mean causing injury to herself and well, she's just not that stupid. So she waits until Sagittarius places the stick down and walks over, giving her a gentle nudge with her nose. There is a graceful sort of smile on her ivory lips as she hears her sister sit down beside and begin talking in the way that Sagittarius does. It doesn't bother Pythia, she frankly doesn't care that her sister spoke differently. To her, they all did. Every wolf had their own voice, accent, inflections, a difference that made them their own.

"You are upset because you wish to be grown?" Pythia questions, her own hind end finding itself upon the ground, her fluffy white tail wrapped neatly around her legs. "Why? From what the grown ups speak of, it does not sound fun," she states, matter of fact and just very Pythia.

Her chin turns when Sagittarius nuzzles her softly, the puppy fur a pleasant feeling against her cheek. "I am fine, I suppose," Pythia says, face trying to find where exactly her sister was sitting, how close or near, but rather finding it hard now that they were sitting still.

"speech"