Phoenix Maplewood Come kiss me further

North. Says the woman with a soft sweep of her muzzle. Pandora tilts her head and instinctively looks in that direction. She shifts her ears even more when she says words she knows not the meaning of. This odd language she speaks has Pandora only mildly confused, but thankfully it seems the other translates well enough. Ice. She says next. That’s good enough of a hint, she could figure it out on her own from there.

“North. Ice.” She hums absentmindedly. 

Then she’s asking her the most peculiar question. She chuckles softly, not trying to seem too eager. “No, but maybe.” She says indecisively. “What’s it like there? I was banished from my last home. You probably wouldn’t want me.”

She says it as if she’s talking about the weather. As if it doesn’t bother her. Half the time it truly doesn’t, it’s just the way of things. She’s a bad omen after all. No one wants her. Where ever she goes she’s supposed to bring bad luck and misfortune. Why would they want her?