[b][center][color=#17c311][h3][i]Cyneburg[/i][/h3][/color]
[color=#17c311]Location:[/color] The Makeshift Camp
[color=#17c311]Interacting with:[/color] The Group[/center][/b]

Cyne looked to each person as they spoke up and took note of what they said. Honestly, there was far less of a reaction than she was expecting. At least half of the group seemed completely nonplussed from her big speech, and the rest accepted her proposal. She hadn't known how everyone would react, but she had thought that everyone would at least have some sort of reaction to her plan. It wasn't any bark off her tree that there wasn't any resistance. Just one more thing the group wouldn't have to worry about.

[color=#17c311]"It doesn't seem like there are any objections. So I guess that's settled then. Now if you wouldn't mind, could you hand me a plate, Keystone?"[/color] Cyneburg asked, stretching out her arm over to the pugilist. Being surrounded by the smell and sight of so much food was not conducive to a watchful eye or a clear head, especially when you've barely eaten for several days. Her saliva glands were working in overdrive and if she didn't keep track of it, would end up as drool coming out of the corner of her mouth. Such behavior was completely unbecoming, even in circles of Druids.