Sawtooth Spire and her heart within her remained bound

the problem, praimfaya quickly realizes as she turns her nose up at den opportunity after den opportunity, is not that she's picky. it's that ...she isn't sure what she's looking for. she doesn't know what she wants, not really. which seems to be quite the reoccurring theme for her life as of late. she noses around a fallen, hallowed out log but looks like it would be big enough and comfortable and provide just enough shelter from the elements. predictably, she turns her nose up at it, too.

her relentless and unsatisfactory pursuit of prime real estate pauses as a chuff sounds from somewhere behind her; nearby. her steps falter to a stop and she peers over her scarred left shoulder at the golden draped aphrodite. initial look was merely cursory; but as praimfaya turns to face the older woman her frostbound gaze studies her with unabashed earnest.

hei — praimfaya almost chokes on the world, tossed about as her standard greeting for so long without thought. llo. she finishes lamely. hello. she tries again with a soft, sheepish clear of her throat. i'm praimfaya. she introduces herself, unsure if she's met the female before or not.