Welcome to Gaia! ::

"I hope we're not any trouble!" She stole a glance down at Pierre, and saw that his expression was markedly less sullen. She felt a small swell of pride- these days, she'd take any sort of obedience she could get- and decided to not punish the boy by making him sit inside.

"Outside would be wonderful. I love the look of the Pythos. Isn't it the most beautiful river you've ever seen?"

Emelyn waited patiently, looking around her surroundings appreciatively. Pierre's eyes remained on the floor until the woman returned, and Vanna alit upon his shoulder. Only then did he look up at the fluttering purple bird with an expression of wonder on his face. His mother shared it.

"What an absolutely lovely bird. ...What's her name?"

Pierre had so little experience with birds that he didn't know what to make of the delicate, tiny beast that picked at his spines with such glee. So he remained still, his eyes cast up and his breath slow and even, watching her with wonder.

"Is she... your daughter?" Emelyn asked, posing the question delicately, for it always seemed so strange to refer to Fortunettes as children when they were still exploring their existance as an animal, and those who were unfamiliar with the ways of the gypsies could be taken aback by it.

"I... I think I met her once. Very briefly," she said, apologetically, lifting her hands up in a small gesture.

Before the woman could get another word in, however, Pierre tugged at his mother's skirts, a worried look on his face.

"...Mom, it's making noises at me." He looked to the woman who walked with them, and repeated his worry to her, as well. "It's making noises at me."

Pierre blinked, surprised at the woman's answer. That part of him that had been an animal was so dormant- deepy ingrained into the boy, that he could no longer bring those memories of his beast days to the surface. Having this peculiar bird flutter around him drew forth many strange, foggy recollections that he couldn't entirely grasp, and it disturbed him, somewhat.

Pierre wrinkled his nose at the bird, then at its mother.

"So... you don't know what she's saying? How do you talk to her, or tell her what to do? ...Mothers do that," he murmured, shooting his own mother a less-than-appreciate gaze out of the corner of his eye.

Pierre did something that his mother never would have expected him to do in such a situation. ...He smiled.

"Can I... hold her?" He asked, putting a tentative, clawed hand out as if the little beast would alight upon his outstretched palm. Emelyn smiled warmly at her son's innocence, happy to know that a curious, awe-struck kid existed beneath his prickly exterior. She gave Lorelei such a beaming smile, communicating, as mothers do, with their eyes.

Pierre's normally beady, dark eyes went wide with a mix of fear and delight.

"Will she... bite me?" He looked at his mother, whispering under his breath. "And if she does, can I bite her back?"

Emelyn laughed, and shook her head resolutely.

While Pierre reveled in the newness of having the tiny creature in his hand, his mother walked alongside Lorelei with a questioning look at Lorelei.

"You said you were from Tempranillo? How long had you been travelling before you came to us?"