Come out.

There was something about her brother that sent a small shiver down her spine when he brushed it with his damp nose. There was a certain air about him that was off, much like that of Sinister's. She didn't believe in auras, but she readily admitted that emotions were exuded around them. Maybe it was that her bipolar mind made her more epithetic to how others feel.

We? To whom was he referring? Othello blinked with confusion, but tried not to show it. He once again took in her scent, and she repressed her shiver that time. And what art was he speaking about? She shook her head, clearing her mind. She focused instead on the joy that she had at last found her brother.

What was with him that that nose of his? He seemed to enjoy placing it all over her bodice. She felt like he was invading her personal bubble. Othello wished to pull back from his creepy touches, but embraced them for the moment. It felt like a life time ago that they saw each other, so maybe this was his way of making up for lost time.

When he tried to wrap her in a better hug, she couldn't help but let out a soft giggle, unheard of from this dame. When he said that he had been wondering about her, or rather 'they', she blinked steadily. Did their father not tell him where he sent her? Her ears flattened against her skull, her eyes growing somber. "Our so called father sent me off to be broken by a lone wolf." She said, her voice hissing between grated teeth. She would never forgive that wolf for what he did to her.

"Speech"
'thoughts'