Shadowwyn Moor he beseeched him lay a hand upon fever-hot brow

It is easier now to notice details Poet was previously distracted from. A strange creature, though beautiful (the priestess has been taught to find beauty in every creature, a habit she doesn't bother trying to break now). She does not think she's seen coloring like what adorns the girl before. Sif seems to understand more than Poet initially suspected, and she offers a quiet smile in return. "I am... here," is her enigmatic answer, accompanied by a graceful shrug of silver shoulder. "It is all I can manage." 

Sif's eyes are unusual too, burgundy and sharp. She thinks she likes these mundane omens. "How long have you known Wardruna?" She asks, voice slow to allow the other time to process each word. Though mentally she has already committed to following the Northerner, whatever that entails, nonetheless she finds herself curious about his other companion. And surely they will be seeing more of each other in the days to come.