A warm smile touches her face, relieved that she hadn't flustered the other woman. “New things, new people... all remarkable in their own way” Willoughby breathes happily “especially when nature provides us with beauty we cannot think of ourselves.”
The maiden listens to the other's short tale, curious. She hadn't ever heard the term of microraptae - but this is what they must be, before her now. “Simply wonderful” she chirps “perhaps I'll one day birth some little ones with wings on their heads... or their rears.” She chuckles again.
It was half jest, half serious. “I shall then be blessed to call them something unique, like your grandfather has” she nods her head “but ah, my name is Willoughby. A pleasure, Ciaran.”
“she speaks”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
