Haunted Wood there is a light

Georgia listened as he spoke, shaping the words before delivering them with a tone that made each one feel final, undebatable. Confident, though not in a flashy way. Like pride ran through his veins, built into his bones, strewn within his pelt. A man born to lead, the peach had realised. And the power he so clearly held almost made her salivate.

Purpose, she echoed. How noble of ya. Her face took a pleasant expression, continuing to hold on to the smile that was continuously plastered upon her maw. Practiced. Shining. But that seemed to be where his explanation ended. A feeling of similarity once more. Curtness when it came to their arrival. A shared expression.

He spoke of his home, and for a brief second she felt as if she could feel the mountains' chill. Georgia had moved around a lot, but she'd always remembered the first. The warm summers had been her favourite. Her eyes met his own, something longing within her set of yellow hues. But then she blinked, and it was gone. Tell me 'bout your home, Sol-hàrr, she smiled.

Or don't, I don't mind—not tryna pry, o'course. Can I call ya Sol?