09-09-2013, 03:49 PM
It is a start, that look at the ground, pointed as an arrow to a space between the Ahroun Cub and the Theurges. Phoebe's brows lift, but the look is less surprised and more pleased. The corners of her mouth lift up into a slight smile. She closes the distance and drops into a crouch, wobbling only a little on the way down because let's face it, Phoebe is rather like a newborn giraffe, all long limbs and not as much coordination as one would expect of a woman of her age and rank. And she sets the pin - a hairpin, for that greasy hair of hers - on the ground and she explains, "I wasn't sure what you might like. If you have a favorite color, the white is good for painting over." Tipping her chin upward, that smile grows a little more. "I like crafts." She hesitates there, but only a moment. If it looks like Fern won't come closer to the hairpin if Phoebe's there, then the Theurge gets herself upright again, and she moves to rejoin her sisters.