Her tone had changed.

Cvetka watched the stranger speak, her ears loosely angled back. She raised her head and pricked her ears again at the sound of her question, however.

...да, это мой родной язык (...yeah, this is my native language). She shuffled slightly, curling her tail in front of her with a sigh.

Cvetka was about to resume her assault against the turf, interrupted by the older woman's offer. 'Well, if the grass is itchy, then I should recommend one of the dens. It is late, and you seem... lost. We do not mind guests, so long as they are kind.' Oh. She hoisted herself onto her haunches and frowned. Okay.

The woman was disconcerted—by the ache that wracked her body, her own intoxicatingly sweet scent. She wanted it all to simply go away.

Alas. It wasn't that simple.

Cerulean eyes rose to meet Valeska's as she spoke. 'Have you met - anyone here, yet?' For a moment, she paused to think.

...I've met... Cyrus. And I've met Aelia, and I've met Raum... Would she even know Raum? She'd met him in a strange world—one that was in mid-spring, not late winter. And... Amaris. Amaris. She'd certainly met Amaris.

Her eyes closed for a moment. I've been here for... she paused. Time had drug on endlessly, so it felt, during her time in Fate's Respite. ...a month. A month and a half, perhaps.