Bearclaw Valley quicksilver cruel

Silence erupted between his statements, but she was a patient sort, simply grateful for a little company that hasn't tried to chase her off. Whether she was too much or not enough, too soft or too forward, for once she revels in the fact that there is a distinct cohesion here.

As ever, questions rise on her tongue but they are the probing sort. She keeps them still and cheeked in essence, wondering just how to learn of him without asking too much. There's the signs that he's unwent something major—some sort of battle, she assumed—littering his features, but she can tell that they've been tended to. Not old wounds, but not too new either.

Obviously in her mind, he had to have been the victor.

"So have you always been a fighter?" she wonders aloud, her gaze once more snaking away. Impolite of her to study him perhaps, yet she could not help it. Knowing he probably wouldn't offer her much to go on, she kept talking. She'd carry the conversation.

"I never really got to learn more than the basics, like how to protect yourself. I liked plants better as a kid," and she may as well have still been a kid. Grown in height but far from it in being.