Sleepy-derp >.>
Ralla was unperturbed by the other male's approach becoming closer and closer, instead letting her body posture relax even as she remained submissive. Even if she was within her own territory, this was still a foreign chief she was dealing with; hence, respect was above all else. She let her attentions wander between watching the fire and watching Jefferson, her claws scratching a little at the stone beneath her feet, whereas they would've normally been sifting through the earth had there been some to do so with. Absentmindedly she twiddled with her necklaces, feeling the familiar smoothness of the polished beads and the curves of the small claws. She flicked one ear towards the man when he remarked that perhaps it was nothing, but she insisted on the issue.
"I've heard others call what they've seen their imagination. I like to think that they're seeing what they believe they saw, but because others deny they saw anything themselves, they explain it away as a trick of the mind." she said with a bit of a lilt and levity in her voice. How true that must be. How one must feel, to be pariah, if they began to see things and others ridiculed them for it? Granted that had never been Ralla's lot in life, but she could only imagine the embarrassment and shame should one be named crazy for things such as seeing fictitious specters. "The Great Spirits tend to come to us in different forms, and sometimes they're not even in the forms of the Great Spirits...if that makes any sense," she said with a shrug of apology to her companion. She was certainly no preacher, but the white wolfess had no problem speaking her mind. What she thought was what she thought, and what was the point in keeping something that was not harmful from being spoken if it was on the tip of the tongue anyway? "Do you believe in anything?" she asked with an inquisitive glance, hoping that it was not a touchy subject to touch on in the first place. The man seemed pretty standoffish, but that didn't dictate if he thought anything of any religion. She was not and would never be one to judge.
The scarred man nodded and acknowledged her thanks for the tribe, and she felt that this man--although few in words thus far--was stable, at the very least, with a level-head on his shoulders. And this was not just from his own body posture or position, but just because she could feel it about him, like she had sensed the presence of the spirit guides her first day in AniWaya. She assumed it to be the pull of the moon, gravitating her towards others that it felt would benefit her, with her eyes opened by its power. But it was also a visceral feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach. Her cheeks turned pink at the mention of Chief Dawali's apparent 'high mention' of her, as well as Jefferson's support of it. She began to speak with modesty. "I don't see why. If you had to place me in usefulness, the warriors and craftsmen do much more than me. I tend to the fire and the wood stocks. But," she said, a smile beaming on her face as she gestured to the fire, "I can't complain. I love it, after all, and the stories and history are my own craft." The 'usefulness' she had mentioned had more to do with her own merit, however. Ralla was not strong; only fast and blessed with a good memory and tie to the spiritual world. She would not be able to defend her home with as much valiance as some of her tribe mates, and she could not match her mate's ferocity in battle for certain. The only thing she believed she could match was passion, although her heart was naturally kind and would only turn to conflict as a last resort.
Moon walks. "Moon talks." Moon thinks.
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