Hushed Willows I'll tell you stories of a better time

She nodded once, pleased that Ibis was taking proper care of the skull. Or, at least, as well as she could, given that it was really meant to be, you know, buried. A smile bloomed over her muzzle as the girl continued, her gaze moving from Ibis to the skull then back to Ibis again.

It was charming but sad. The cherub barely had anyone to speak to. She had resorted to sharing her problems with an old cranium, instead. Her expression grew mournful, just slightly, but she kept her eyes trained on the scene until Ibis was finished speaking.

That's all perfectly fine, Lily quasi-lied, a corner of her mouth quirking gently. It's good to have a friend. But Ibis. . .if you ever need to talk to someone, and you want someone to talk back--come find me. My ears are always open, she said, grinning as she rotated her auds in illustration.