Haunted Wood there is a light

The caution she had held towards the man—now know as Sol-hàrr— slowly began to fade. Her shoulders loosened, her tongue flicked out against her lips as to provide them with some moisture. Georgia's posture wouldn't drop, and that was not the fault of the northern man, but the product of her own will.

A word emerged from his throat. One that she couldn't discern. Clearly not common-tongue. Which would make sense, considering the way he spoke, the way he crafted his words with such peculiarity. Vet-rf-something. She wouldn't even attempt it, but she'd not, confirmation that she was listening. That she was interested.

His own humour seemed to shine behind an otherwise stoic complexion. The side of his maw twitched in what she thought to be a smile. The way he constructed her name caused her to suck in a quick breath. Well, thank ya, kind stranger. Her voice was laced with a light chuckle. A particular sparkle within citrusy eyes.

Sol-hàrr's head tilted in a similar manner of curiosity, and she corrected her own, sitting up straight. He asked why she was here, and she had to quickly flick through her thoughts as to keep herself appropriately filtered. She would not reveal she was here on the run, escaping her past and those who wished to hurt her.

Georgia hummed. Just travellin', she said, sculpted smile lending her a confidence buff. It wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't the full truth, either. Lookin' for new sights. How bout you, Sol-hàrr? What-a-ya here for?