Bearclaw Valley everything is never as it seems

Laurel's attitude shouldn't amuse her as much as it does. It's probably unkindly, but she can't help it; the tension between her obvious concern and her outwardly cranky disposition are incredibly charming to Poet. When given her name, she repeats it slowly, "Laurel," and pauses.

She's already given her name, but... whether a passing vulnerability or something else, she suddenly feels the urge to offer the woman something more. "To the poet we delivered lacquered bone and gilded laurels," Poet tells her, feeling the rhythm of the name as it passes her tongue and the way it still stings. "That is my full calling, although I do not use it anymore. In a way, I suppose I'm also a "laurel"," she adds, smiling a tiny smile at her little joke. 

"Are you well aquainted with the others of the valley?" Poet asks, feeling it's only fair she return the favor now that Laurel has thoroughly investigated her.