Hushed Willows are there strangers like me?

She listened to them both with a smile, curtsying in greeting for she hadn't done so already. She felt bad to have winced in the presence of the earthy beaver, yet scars were one of the few things that made her feel like she was back with her family. All those assassins had scars, and they boasted about it! The only one she hadn't heard saying something glorious about their battle scars was her mother. From the looks of it, the beaver would fit right in with them... yet he came across as gentle and lost. What a confusing set of traits.

Thank you, Deidra. She responded softly before turning to the one who called himself Memory. We could use your skills as a warrior - it is probably apparent almost none of us are fit for battle. And she wouldn't be ashamed to admit it. But the life of a faerie is peaceful... are you willing to join us, even if it means you might never have to fight again? She asked in a more serious tone, wanting the truth and little else.