Watching the expressive nature of her companion’s face and body language was highly amusing to Melinoë. It was all done so innocently, so purely. To live in such a way… it was something to potentially ponder later.

For now, she kept her attention on the lass as she babbled along.

Then she mentioned tits on a bull, and a laugh actually escaped the wraith. Oh, mortals. The way they spoke was always an entertaining thing to witness.

Saffron eyes softened as she offered a small smile to her companion.

I think you have a lovely voice and perfectly valuable things to say. Thank you for the laugh.

Tilting her head as Willow continued talking, the small smile faded, shifting instead into a look of concern.

Willow… do you know how to survive without your masters? Do you know how to hunt? How to properly scent for danger? How to create shelter?

The survival instincts coming from the innocent creature were… not exactly strong. That simply wouldn’t do, if that truly was the case.

Then she wondered more about where the goddess was from.

Hm. It is… a little difficult to explain. I am from the Underworld, the land of the dead. I exist where light and dark meet: dusk and dawn, sun and moon. It is… a melancholic place.

I am deemed the guider of souls. I retrieve those who die within the mortal plane and take them to their final resting place within the Underworld. It is my responsibility to soothe frightened and tormented souls.

She was confident most of this would soar right over sweet Willow’s head, but she had been asked, and Melinoë was proud of her heritage, proud of who she was. What she was.