Hushed Willows daisy chain blues

bridget was a story-teller; she drew teya in close and wove crochet-hook themes around the woman's ears. what sort of chores, she wondered, without the words to ask or the confidence to consider it. but her gaze was attentive, the language of her body engaged.
"i not thought of it," a timid laugh unspooling behind her words. and it was true. she had taken to the stars since coming to the court, but was not sure what role she might take. healing did not interest her beyond the aesthetic of plants, but warriorship and endless hunting was not her milieu either. a shift of her ears toward the woman in the red mask. "what you like to do?"