Hushed Willows Could've been the wine

caw is very unsure what he should be doing, so orlaith’s order stops him in his proverbial tracks. not that he has been thinking of going anywhere, at all! just to howl for their queen. it seems that this is not what the fire faerie wants of him, though, so he nods an agreement to her words. “will stay!”

she is so very clearly not pleased with the cat. caw thinks it is probably both that he has wandered in here like he has and that he has denied her existence to her face. this is not a polite thing to do. even caw knows that! but he has still not quite made up his feelings on this entire interaction, because even though it is both very dangerous and very rude to walk into faerie lands without permission, the cat is very fascinating.

caw’s bright crimson gaze wanders steadily off orlaith and back to the cat, though he does not move. vrána gives a low, displeased croak on the back of his shoulder, but it is not his fault now that he is in this place! he has been commanded to stay, after all! he hunches his shoulders, but before he can look back at her, he is derailed by the cat’s voice.

“name is caw! yes!” he wiggles a little in place, excited to be addressed and in such a complimentary fashion; kincaid’s rather important question goes in one ear and flies, unnoticed, out the other. “thank you!” then, blinking curiously: "what is yours?"