Fox's Glade have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets

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cue the cutest interaction, wherein hella lets sif clean her wounds.

although the wisp understood what the girl's body language conveyed, she did not understand why the woman curled in upon herself as she drew near.  perhaps she had been hurt before but that kind of neurotic anxiety had always caused hella's stomach to twist and knot in ways she was not fond of.

yet still — this woman was the only other who she'd had contact with since being claimed, and as the same man had decided to keep both of them as his thralls, she figured that she must make an effort to get along.  sif had done nothing to warrant unkind behaviour from hella and the ghost did not dislike the other woman (in fact, the opposite) yet she could feel herself feeding off of her anxiety.

she tucks her snipy maw to her chest when the other makes a note that her name is pretty — or perhaps that she is pretty — a heat creeping up in her cheeks as her throat tightens.  it is not something she has ever been considered, with the lightning-strike scar that'd singed down her side and the tooth-marked forelegs.  yet still she doesn't deny it.  at least someone or two someones (if that is why wardruna chose her) think so.

she realizes she has not responded in turn and quickly gestures at sif, you, pretty too.  

the woman falls over herself to please hella and it puts her between a rock and a hard place.  god, she is still hungry but she might be too weak, at this point, to hunt for herself.  so she settles instead for the second offer, laying on the ground with her legs in front of her, motioning at them.[/align]

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