Phoenix Maplewood if everything is honey, & i am what i eat...

”Ce? Un maestru?“ The inquiry was a bit warbled, as the ambery ‘sap’  toed about the corner of one of her lips. The scent was, indeed, overbearing and rather sugary, and the aroma of it began to ooze like molasses into her lungs. Through a little lurch in her belly, she was able to further pip, ”What master would abandon h-his champion? Especially in ze Teekons?”

The snowy female seemed to be under the impression that some lord had forsaken his guardian — in the dead of deep winter, no less — and had left this champion behind to search for him. The concept of indentured servitude hadn’t once crossed her mind; especially not with this amber on her maw.

”I-I hope you find another, of course,” she stuttered, tipping her chin up and to the side to redirect the crawling tree-stuff. ”I kn-know what it is like, to search for someone with next t-to nothing to guide you.” All the while, full-moon, shivery eyes flit between her predicament and the sable champion before her.