Verdant Basin ignite

Starbuck.

A curious, queer little name. Then again, her own name was a long and arduous thing when spoke in full; including the title that she had inherited — Witch-Seeker — then Saga was an odd duck indeed. She did not speak of this openly but rather, regarded the stranger with her bright eyes, although there was little warmth there. Such things were reserved for family. But she was happy to have company after so many days alone — wishing in part that it was her brother that had found her, Saga looked upon the bright side now, and her smile grew.

Indeed, she spoke softly, barely loud enough to be heard above the rushing river, which was opposite to the vivacious manner in which Starbuck spoke her own words; there was a subtle accent to every sound as well, hearkening to the many slavic and nordic influences that produced her. My brothers call me Saga; I am a daughter of Brynhildr, descendant of Ragnar the Great. She spoke this plainly as well, as it was customary to introduce oneself by naming their lineage — it was habit. But afterwards, Saga dipped her head and nervously averted her gaze, the wolf equivalent of blushing. I suppose... That is meaningless here. Ah, I am not sure of the customs in this place.