an alien a day keeps the sorceror's away

To Rylee, her words had been nothing more than a figure of speech. Something she'd said over her joy in the moment. To find out that an elf was the one that the shems all worshiped? It was a glorious thing and something that had definitely just become the highlight of her life.

But, the reaction from Sivene threw her immediately for a loop. A spanner in the works. A brick to the skull.

Not much could make Rylee utterly speechless. And Sivene had managed to do that a couple times within the span of just a few minutes. Though this time was certainly more noteworthy than the last. What could she have up her proverbial sleeves next?

I... Rylee blinked at Sivene. It was... Oh, fuck it. She leaned in and offered a swift kiss against Sivene's cheek. Rylee's skin flushed a bit up to her ears, but she leaned away and gave an awkward smile. Um... thank you?

Yep. Something was definitely different about Sivene. Only her late husband had ever managed to make her blush in any capacity.

Sivene took things too literally, sometimes. Rylee was quickly learning this. And she waited patiently for a kiss, furrowing her brow as lips met her cheek and the other one blushed. What's it called? When your face changes color. She didn't know the word for it in Common.

The aberration peered over at the other woman; they were similar heights, equally matched. She studied the streets around them, humming to herself as she waited for an answer.

In that moment, Rylee was glad she'd not swallowed anything as she'd be choking on it shortly after. Sivene truly might be the death of her, at this rate. So much seemed foreign and strange to the other woman. And the bluntness in which she asked her questions left Rylee now constantly scrambling to keep up and not lose her better senses to the child-like innocence of the curiosity.

Uh... Rylee trailed off before she could even really answer, brow furrowing in thought. I reckon there are different answers depending on the reason. It was the best she could do without fully chucking herself under the cart and admitting embarrassment.

Sivene stared at the other woman, as if she were speaking another language. But it has to have a word? She inquired, not quite grasping that there could be multiple words for one thing in this language.

Is it a good thing?

There are different words. Rylee tried her best to keep herself level-headed in the moment. Not losing herself into the ridiculous levels of embarrassment of the moment.

It's... something. She offered with an awkward smile. She didn't like being on her back foot like this. At least Sivene was adorable.

There'd be no hiding, though, not from her curious innocence. She'd get an answer one way or another and rather than drag it out, Rylee swallowed her pride. I'm merely... flustered.

Why? There was zero hesitation. Sivene was like a 7,000+ year old child, just learning they can ask questions for the first time. Because of me? She furrowed her brows, as if that was incomprehensible.

You're weird. She decided, oblivious to the awkward nature of the other woman. But that's okay. I'm pretty strange too. Of course, she meant she was physically strange.

Maker help her.

Certainly not because I nearly gutted that shem.

Rylee let out a huff, feeling almost like an awkward teen again. It wasn't as if she could really fully realize an answer for the questions to herself, let alone enough to share with Sivene.

In your own way, perhaps. The only thing truly strange that Rylee could see so far were the awkward questions. The childlike innocence.

Sivene hmmed, and then she shrugged. My genetic structure is weird. That's what the scientist always said. It was a throwaway comment, as if she didn't realize that maybe she should keep that information to herself.

She resumed walking, hands behind of her back. What do you do for work? It fascinated her to learn about what others did as their jobs; hers was a simple skill, picked up whilst in a village, and old era hand-stitching was hard to come by these days as many would use magic to craft a tad faster. But magic didn't give as precise stitching.

Confusion fluttered over Rylee, easily overtaking her expression. The comment was so odd she couldn't even keep a straight face if she'd wanted to in the moment. You... scientist... what?

Then as if nothing odd had been spoken at all, Sivene was asking about work. Evidently, the warden blues she wore were not clear enough. I'm a Grey Warden. Rylee gestured to the griffon at the center of the leathers on her chest. What else did you think this heraldry was?

Sivene tilted her head, staring at the griffon on the other womans chest. In fact, just to ensure she's really seeing what it is, she moved closer. Until she was eye-to-eye with the heraldry (and inconsequentially, Rylee's chest).

One hand reached to trace the shape of the griffon. Grey... Warden? You're not grey. What are you warden of?