#rambling things

-A fully developed & coded companion

-Has no inventory limit

-Can only be equipped with an axe and/or fists

-Fully voiced, but the only thing she says is different lines of Griffin’s impressions: ex, when she kills she says, “I do this”

-Is automatically counted as a romance companion, but her only pillow talk line is Griffin saying “Daddy like a pretty baby”

It was two days before duty demanded that she ride sound for Gridanian territory, though it would have been a lie to say she wasn’t looking forward to the familiarity of its deep forests; to the feeling of green life that endured throughout the winter moons, different from any treasured greenhouse of the Pepins.  Perhaps it was the eagerness to see it again that drew her out into the gardens that day. Her spirits were lighter, she found, and for the moment there was no snow!

Granted, she could have done without the accompanying presence of Sers Edouard and Ramaufont, but both Eliane and Martiallais had insisted upon the escort, and Gwenneth couldn’t really find cause for complaint...save for the nagging guilt of pulling them away from more worthwhile occupation.

Ser Edouard, at least, seemed to have no qualms with the bells outdoors -- but then, the Hyur typically looked pleased about most things, more often than not, in stark contrast to his more dour Elezen counterpart. Ser Ramaufont may as well have been a statue for how much he moved from his rigid position, alert to presumably everything.  

Well, almost everything. He certainly didn’t notice when the robin alighted atop his blade, and only too late when his helmet received a sound pecking.  The Elezen was completely taken aback.  Ser Edouard found this hilarious.

“I can’t believe it!” the Hyur laughed--but not too loudly.  He was on duty, after all. “Your neck is actually so long that a bird just mistook you for a tree.  Well done!”

“And Captain Martiallais is like to mistake your tongue-flapping for something punishable if you do not hold it,” Ramaufont hissed.  

Edouard chuckled, unphased as ever. Ramaufont glowered and regained his previous cool composure.  Gwenneth, meanwhile, hadn’t heard their exchange, but saw the robin flit away from the irritated Elezen just as she began to wonder what was so funny across the way.  Was that--?

Surely it couldn’t be the same bird again!  Fancy would be running away with her to believe otherwise.  At least, that is what a more sensible person might say; one who wasn’t so acquainted with the fanciful as she was.  

So, carefully, so as not to cause the bird alarm, she crept close to where it was perched among the violets and lowered herself with practiced ease to the ground among them.  One slender hand reached out toward the robin, so as to allow it a different perch if it so chose.  

“Fond of the winter violets as well, then?”  The question was softly spoken, and of course the bird couldn’t answer, but, as ever, Gwenneth didn’t seem to mind.  Half her attention was on the pale blue of the flowers.  The other half, inwardly, wondered on and on about her unlikely feathered companion.

Unaware of the great mystery, the knights bickered quietly on behind.