Duck Lake aanniqtuq ☀

Cry’s onyx auds swiped to face the pale fae and retrieve that tired swirl of words. It was clear this woman was weak, needed help as urgently as possible. Considering he couldn’t trust another stranger to not take advantage of the woman, he had to be a hero, today. 

Her third person reference was rather intriguing - he had come across quite a few souls and hadn’t heard such a queer manner of speech, but nevertheless he didn’t shun her for it. Everyone was different. He had known Kai who hadn’t enjoyed talking very much, and he understood her perfectly fine. Swallowing the knot from his throat, Cry silently made himself rim the border of the lake, skirting the edge of the frosty death trap. Seeing both his reflection pass into it along with fleeing flashes of silver and blue, the Keeper knew it was rather stocked with cold-blooded edibles. 

Was she hungry?
She had to be. The glacial gaze ran over the thin and wispy body of his company, and her ribs jutted from a thin flask of limp fur, only just modestly hiding sharp shoulder blades under a cleaned hide of added fur- a pelt of a small mammal? This shamanic woman was a strange one, but he held no prejudice to her, regardless of her customs or speech difference. 

Without thinking twice, the Phantom made up his mind. Bringing a hard stare to the crystalline flat of the lakeside, he asked lightly “May I borrow your pelt? The one atop your back?”