Patchouli had been a pale shadow at the outer edges of the Mire, making an effort to stay out of everyone's way and remain as a fly on the wall. Socializing had never been her strong suit, though she had been trained as an entertainer in her youth. While she was graceful in her movements, she hadn't taken on much talent as a dancer, but she had excelled at singing. Hers was a delicate and soft voice to begin with, perfect for singing soothing melodies that helped bring sleep to overly energetic cubs or battle-worn lions that needed an escape from thoughts of violence and bloodshed. In her time here, none had asked for songs or simple comforts, though neither had she offered. Back home it was expected and many went to great lengths to be the finest at their crafts, to earn favor and standing.

The quiet and lack of distractions worked in her favor, as she had finally finished constructing a den for Alaric, even if all of that work and care had been put towards a den he would only occasionally visit. It might seem a waste, but it had given Patchouli plenty of busy work to keep herself preoccupied with as she adjusted from life as a recluse to one as a pride lioness. Yet now that her task was done, she wasn't sure what to do with herself now. Mostly she absently gathered what herbs she could within the territory, quietly singing to herself as she went along. Even though she seemed relaxed, she was always acutely aware of her surroundings, mismatches eyes always searching for any lions in the vicinity. Pride mates or not, she was always cautious when it came to strangers.

image by moogle/code by saph

CRY LITTLE SISTER
☾ The vague sakura blossom tint of a small woman drew Nusura’s attention as Patchouli toddled about with the body language of one who was busy, at work. It was clear she was coming from the direction of a structure of some sort, the presence of which was betrayed by the absence of light at the mouth of the den. The scent of a finely crafted home, cleaned and decorated, seemed to suggest it was lovingly cared for, tended to. This was curious, if not entirely endearing. The sound of a song hummed in the air as well, teasing a gentle smile onto Nusura’s lips. An easy deportment about the dark woman, Nusura put down her own bundle of cattails (gods, it was the only thing she knew about in this swamp. She needed to venture out to find more of the limited assortment of herbs she actually had knowledge of.) on the wet grass near her feet and chuffed gently in the direction of other woman as her path crossed. "Good evening." She began amicably, her ears twitching in the warm breeze that carried with it the sound of buzzing insects and the warm, dank scent of the swamp which she delighted in. "Are you collecting?" The warmth that resonated in her voice was clear. It was nice to speak to someone other than the men or women, soldiers and kings, who deigned to rule. Then again, who was she to assume that this pretty, nicely smelling woman was not one of those? She paused, "Please, don’t stop your singing. It is lovely." She purred, the sun hot and soothing down her back as it streamed through the cypresses.

@Patchouli

_{BG — CODE}

Interactions with other lionesses had been few and far between, not just within her new home, but it times before. She had been raised and trained by those like herself, but those females not within the role of servitude never wanted anything to do with her kind. She wasn't sure how to behave or speak to them, for they were not the ones she had been trained to serve. Was she meant to bow? Was she required to address them with titles and with the same level of respect as their male counterpart? Did they expect a specific behavior from her?

It was likely a blessing that her first encounter with a Mire lioness was with this one, as others might be more prone to a violent interaction over this more friendly sort. She had greeted Patchouli warmly, a small collection of plants at her feet to suggest she was a healer. She was a curious-looking lioness, one that would take a great deal of time to memorize the intricate details of considering just how many markings there were. She was not so different from Patchouli though, one had been brushed with a watercolor brush and the other with black ink. Patches of white with no symmetrical shape.

Good evening madam. She responded, a small dip of the head offered. For once, Patchouli's eyes would remain level instead of cast downwards as they tended to do whenever a male approached her. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment when @Nusura commented on her singing. You.. could hear me? She had not been singing very loud, meaning she either needed to get her hearing checked or this lioness had very sharp hearing.

image by moogle/code by saph