Witch's Marsh Relax, turn around and take my hand

There was one thing Emory knew best, besides her art of conning...winter sucks. The autumn colored fae despised the barren land of white sheets and translucent ice covering all the potential life to bloom. There was nothing to do in winter besides survive, and her favorite pass time was plenty harder when no wolves were around to trick. For once you could spot the lack of a sultry smirk agaisnt her muzzle. Ugh, it was awful. It felt even worse with the lack of her second mind, Charley. The wolf's partner and crime had been absent for months now - well, more like she had been - and it was taking a rather large toll on the artist.

Staring indignantly at the winter touched world, a strange figure came into sight, seeming to glide clumsily on the frozen water. The closer she got, the easier it was to tell it was a wolf committing this strange act. The vixen paused, staring intently at the silvery figure, embarressing themself rather immensly. Her stolen smile returned, and instantly the girl adjusted her posture, her walk growing a bit more...suggestive gate. 

Soon enough she stood at the edge of the icey ground, her lustful eyes gleaming at the other with a facade of ardur. "Helloo..." A tone soft, and warm like honey, but low enough to be heard.