Witch's Marsh a dancing dream of all eternity

Her shout was met with a brief silence, then a foreign voice. It wasn't terrible on the ears, that voice. It had a twang to it, and somehow reminded Ibis of her friend Ereshkigal, but only vaguely. The thought of her friend came and went in a flash — more importantly, the figure didn't seem bothered by little Ibis at all. She didn't know how she felt about that thought.

The stranger moved, murmured something... And Ibis looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the interloper, but she was clearly alone. Was this a safe time to be making new friends? What if this stranger meant her ill? Surely if that were the case they'd have taken advantage of the dark rather than say hello — Ibis had never been a guardian and wasn't ready for all these questions and doubts to surface. It was bad timing, for sure.

The stranger's commentary though, that stuck with her. She huffs softly to herself and calls over the mud, I live here. Me, my friends... The marsh is ours. You, um, like it? She should've chased the potential pest out of the area but didn't think of it, and when faced with the big question 'What do I do now?' Ibis opted for... an olive branch, of sorts.