[/html]Her fingers brushed away snow from articles outside of the shop, studying the quality and possible purpose of everything while she listened to the stranger talk. New parents. She paused in her movements and glanced toward him. "It isn't wrong. I wish I had new parents. But that's why I got a new family, away from the Fam and stuff." She gave a shrug and turned back to her work, yanking a rusted chair from the ground. She pursed her lips thoughtfully before tossing the chair to the side; it didn't serve the purpose she wanted.
"My papa lives in the desert, real warm place. He's a good guy, but his mind kinda...functions weird." Cult was not a word that the mutt woman was accustomed to, but it certainly attached to her paternal family with ease. Her father lead his family with radical ideals, sexual intercourse and psychoactive drugs. It was something Krystalle had fled from, unwilling to accept his way of life. Still, she couldn't see the cult. She couldn't see the bad. Her world was fine, just a bit strange.
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