[center][h3][color=BlueViolet]Madame Morvanne[/color][/h3]
Talking to [color=darkred]Fumiko[/color][@Antediluvixen][/center]

Morvanne was utterly miserable. The woods had been one thing: an ancient yet living thing, where the Prist hung so heavy in the air that she swore she could have plucked essence as if it was a fruit... But one didn't need to be an Obliturge to know who held sway here. Its intensity, its power, it's [i]heat[/i] was enough to make one consider just how thoroughly the Sunderer had done its job of splitting the Glory.

It was no wonder, really, that the people here were obsessed with the thing. "The Light-and-Flame," she had heard it called, and as on-the-nose as that was, it certaily didn't seem inappropriate. There was the Sun Divided, and there was the Flame's creations, just outside her wagon. Directly in the sunlight. She groaned and rolled over in her bed, about to continue her languishing when a knock came at the door, followed by a question. The broken common, the accent... 

Oh dear. 

[color=BlueViolet]"One moment,"[/color] she called back, before scrambling to her feet. She filled a kettle with water, lit her small tea burner, tossed a few leaves in and set it down to boil, before immediately turning to her wardrobe and rummaging through. She was in her undergarments at the moment, and there wasn't a a chance among the devils that she'd be meeting this stranger in a few pieces of linen. But... What to put on that was quick enough to don without leaving her strange guest waiting, and thin enough that she didn't immediately wish to tear it back off again?

She flicked through her garments quickly, then picked one without thinking over it too quickly: this was not a ritual, it didn't require her to spend hours contemplating. Already she could feel her instincts telling her she'd left the guest waiting for too long- she should have been ready to accept visitors when it was acceptable for them to come over. Squashing them down and tossing on the pale red gown she'd plucked out, she could finally smooth the whole thing out and hurry to the door, unlocking it just as the kettle began to bubble.

Fumiko would find the inside of the wagon to be homely, if a little cramped. A small cot was pressed into a corner, braced up by a wardrobe that had had hooks attached to the sides just to hold more clothing. Bookcases and shelves were crammed in wherever there was room, the storage space filled with scrolls and trinkets alongside the expected books. Small bundles of aromatic herbs dangled down here and there, and the wall closest to the door had been adorned by a tapestry as broad as a man's wingspan.

Morvanne herself offered Fumiko a small curtsy, then, as she had done every time she interacted with the woman, made a quick gesture with her right hand: index and pinky finger extended out towards the alien, the rest tucked in. A ward against bad luck and evil.

[center][h3][color=khaki]Malleck 'Freepaw'[/color][/h3]
Talking to [color=CD853F]Thozna Scrapblast-of-Norplain[/color][@Smike] and [color=slategray]Athulwin[/color][@Tortoise][/center]

Malleck managed a quick yip before Athulwin emerged to try to smooth things over. Unfortunately for both Thozna and the monk though, a lifetime of ingrained learning did not vanish quickly - especially when the towering gnoll bared her teeth and commented that she could, indeed, kill the young storyteller. [color=khaki]"Wouldn't be the first of your kind to tear apart an innocent,"[color=khaki] the Ainok commented bitterly, only sparing her a sceptical look when she commented that she wouldn't turn on her 'pack.' How many of her 'packmates' had thought a similar thing before they were hacked apart or had a chunk ripped out of their chest by those jaws?

[color=khaki]"Jus' don't feel comfortable around gnolls. Lost too many of my pack to 'em. Need a hand with those steps Athulwin?"[/color]