<3
She was pleased that their greeter, a man named Saul, didn't snap at her for the rude comment. Yes, she knew better, but she wouldn't deny her exhaustion. She was just so tired lately. Questions, of course, were expected, though as he asked what they could do to benefit Dahlia, her mind drew a blank. Krystalle couldn't do much. She wasn't a carpenter, and she didn't hunt, she couldn't sew. Writing, what use was her ability to read and write in a pack that needed strong arms and some sense of building? White tipped fingers pressed into the space between her jaws and eyes in frustration at herself. "Madre de Dios," she muttered, eyes searching Mars and her horse for something she could offer.
Something in her mind lit up and she scrambled from her place to the makeshift saddlebags strapped to Senorita's flanks, her usual feminine sashay hindered by the extra weight she carried. Her hands dove into the mess of her belongings, pulling out a carefully made clay vase, painted in shades of orange and red. Cautiously, she returned to the side of her black-and-white companion, holding out the vase with a careful hand. "Can't really help fix houses, but I make other things, like this. 'n I read 'n write 'n...stuff." It was all quite vague, but she couldn't help but feel rather useless in comparison to Mars Russo.
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