Redhawk Caldera summer skeletons

"Fishing?" A breath of laughter escaped her, and she tipped her muzzle toward him, brows quirked and smile not knowing what to do with his answer. But when she saw his searching gaze - as if not really knowing what kind of response she wanted from him - every tease fled her tongue, and she flopped to her side to give him her focus.

Andalusia had seen a great many cultures over her months on the road, but Sebastian's surprised her, and her brow lifted with her unspoken thoughts. Perhaps she had taken her own childhood for granted, the days spent wrestling with her siblings, vying for dominance and learning the forms of hunting and fighting without truly knowing the games their parents encouraged were for reasons far beyond having a good time.

Growing up, of course, tempered this. They were expected to work now, to take those lessons learned in play and put them to use. Their lives depended on this ability, but Andalusia hardly believed they had to stop playing just because they grew old - or because they had come to know the weight and burden of life.

That was almost more reason to find moments to laugh, and finally, her face settled on a true, if somewhat mischevious, grin. "Well then, Sir Serious, we're making this moment one of those rarities." She laughed, nudged him with her forepaw, and tipped her muzzle skyward again. "Here's another game for you, if you choose to accept. See all those little things glowing up there in the sky? Those are stars. And we make pictures and stories out of them." She danced her gaze to the brightest star, and motioned toward it. "That one is the stareater. He's so bright from all the stars who've tried to stand up to him and failed, and though the sun frightens him in the day, he flaunts his terror all through the night. But now we're gonna change that. So it's your turn. I've chosen the villain of our story - " She turned her dancing eyes on Sebastian, hoping he'd play along - "you get to choose our hero."