Frogspawn Swamp The Stars Are A Mired Swamp

Her ear flicked at the name but there was no way in hell she was going to argue. Any discussion with this guy was going to be a waterfall of useless chatter, she could already tell, so he could call her whatever the hell he wanted. She was far more interested in prodding him than hashing out accurate details.

Besides, might be better if he couldn’t follow her home later.

Did you get yourself cursed? Piss off whatever witch lives in this swamp, refuse to answer a question, and now you can’t open your mouth without everything in your head falling out? Fennec tilted her head, the question entirely genuine. Because that is a hell of a curse to live with, Rambles.

Taking a tumble every now and again finally registered. Shit, maybe the guy was brain damaged. The healer in her noted the way he talked, though, and dismissed that pretty quickly. There was no reason to think it aside from mean speculation - but that would never stop her from having the private thought.