Hushed Willows [festival] the sun's not yellow, it's chicken

she'd drifted back to the festivities after speaking to her brother, shifting through faces and scents, not quite willing to join completely. she'd heard the storyteller barely over the murmer of voices, but her attention had been caught and she'd made her way to him, where already another waited. recognition glinted immidiately, the drifting scent of salt and shore confirming te identity of the looming figure. she closed the last few meters between them, sitting back on her haunches a short distance to the right of the male, offering him a sideways glance and a curve of her muzzle. "as would I." she shifted slightly as she settled in to wait, gaze lingering on the storyteller alongside the titan's.