Otatso Wetlands mud masks

Irene’s tail gave a subtle flick, her posture shifting into something more relaxed. I like it, she said, her lips curling into a small, easy smile. Rala suits you. It feels... natural.

There was something warm in Rala’s curiosity, a genuine interest that Irene didn’t mind indulging. She was used to being independent, but there was no harm in sharing a name with someone who seemed to understand the dance of the world a little differently.

As for me, Irene’s gaze softened, her voice steady, you can call me Irene. She smiled, a small, knowing glint in her eyes. It’s simple, but it’s mine.