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One gypsy from the opposite caravan had been sitting near her wagon all the while, almost unnoticeable as she sat, dawdling in the shadow of Blue Dawn, her home within the caravan.

She had not been purposefully watching the man who stalled atop his wagonseat- but rather, thought that her eyes were merely tired and that there was nowhere else to look but to that point. She did not realize until the girl came from the back of the wagon- that there had been a very definite reason for her focus upon that point.

The woman stood- awkwardly, for her legs were that of a bird's- and it was difficult to walk upon her talons. Their sight would be mostly covered by swaths of black material, but it was difficult to walk, nonetheless, as she hobbled forward to the man and his daughter.

"I am sorry... to come upon you like this," the woman said. Her voice was high and raspy, as if she had not spoken for weeks, and her face was mostly covered by a hood. Only a few gold and black feathers could be seen... and the protrusion of a golden beak, marred with black marks and swirls.

"I... am sorry," she said again, "But would you be... Annjette?"

Pierre grinned, glad to be a part of a conversation that did not include the babies of the caravan, or one of his mother's weird friends.

"Nah'much. Just trying to get my mother off my back, y'know?"

Emelyn, meanwhile, plucked the red whistle off her chest with a delicately hooked finger, holding it away from her on its leather string.

"Oh you mean this? I picked it up in trade long ago, and like the way it looks. I keep meaning to use it to call Pierre closer to me when he wanders- but keep forgetting to use it."

"No, my darling," the woman said, just as scratchy. "I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done for my voice." She was touched by the child's kindness- and it made the subject of her vision all the harder.

"I have heard of you... from the meij." It was all she could think of to say- not knowing how to explain that she had been having nightmares for the past two weeks of an Unfortunette adult, bowed with the legs and face of a black swan, yet as emotionally unstable and angry as a human whose life had gone very wrong... that would come out of the north in the form of a child named... Annjette. In the dreams, her path was not set- but, were she not given some measure of control- she would become the most powerful Unfortunette ever born... and destroy much of the hope of the world.

"You are... just turned child, is that so?"

Annjette smiled lightly at the woman's endearment. The girl took it in stride nodding her head in acceptance of the decline of drink. She stayed in her spot next to her guardian tilting her head as she listened to the woman speak. For a moment her violet eyes darkened and she went still saying nothing.

Voltaire gently nudged the girl, not being forceful with her to answer, but more to remind her that there are people around her still and that she wasn't alone.

The swan-girl blinked a bit before looking around and then back to the woman and nodding, "Yes, not too long ago...I..." she trailed off. A mask of shame grew over her features. What she had done scared and angered her. Angry not at those around her, but at herself.

Annjette blinked and tilted her head. She had never gotten a present from a complete stranger before. The swan-girl glanced toward her father to see what he would say as Algonya addressed him and introduced herself.

Voltaire blinked a bit and nodded a little, "I understand completely, I assumed if you wanted to harm either of us you would have attempted from the start. Instead you simply talked with my daughter, and despite what was said I do not feel ill will in your words."

He glanced over at Annjette and then nodded to Algonya, "Yes, of course a gift is alright, I think."

Lorelei's head shot up, and she stared at him. "Ah... the offer is tempting," she said after a moment, softly. "You aren't heading for Tempranillo, I take it? That would be a.... welcome change." She bit her lip, looking at Vanna who was staring back at her. "But... Vanna's home is here - she knows nowhere else. I just..."

Were Algonya able to smile, she would have. Instead, she bowed her head from him with a low-spoken thanks. He was a tall man, and attractive- so very few gypsy males aren't so- but he had a certain authority and reason to him that would have made him an ideal sort to stare at and ponder over... were it not for her face, and all the horrors that came with it.

"But first, little one... you seem so angry. What happened to make you so?"