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

Emory took the compliment well,  looking down at her carefully groomed physique as if she did not believe the grey pixie's words. Israel's jaw parted slightly, a little incredulous. With Emory's flirtatious nature she was surprised that the toffee-hued wolfess would ask for any confirmation at all. Israel wondered if she had broken past some internal barrier. Now was the first time since the beginning of their encounter that the other seemed unsure of herself, if slightly. The humility that Israel saw flattered Emory.

"Yes. You're lovely." Israel was flirted with often, but she did not had full confidence in her own looks. She loved to doll out compliments to others when appropriate ; it was an esteemable act, one that made her feel better inside.

"I have been thinking about packs. I'm not sure being a lone wolf suits me," she absently gazed across the marsh, then down at her paws, murmuring, "I will need to speak with Simatra..."