ISKRA
Fortunately Iskra has had years of practice dealing with irate, screaming women, his mother chief among them. So the harpy that goes by Frieda might as well have been water to a duck, earning nothing but an understanding and empathetic nod from Iskra. Goose is less impervious, his ears slanting back at the child's shrill cry, but he stands still for the embrace and the death grip of the toddler because that is indeed a smear of food on the tot's cheek and his tongue helps wash it free. "I see, thank you for your time ma'am. I should let you be on your way," he murmurs as he excuses himself with a small bow, a snap near his legs grabbing Goose's attention to heel, which the hound heeds since the child is out of food.
Iskra heads back to where they had all first met to discuss the daemons, waiting until at least one more of them had gathered (which would be very awkward if none did), before reciting Freida's knowledge. "The grumpy mother says she saw a dragon deamon at a grave in the barrows a bit further down." Iskra gestures the general way that she had, squinting at the line of graves off in the distance like he wish he knew which specific one. Since she'd been going to pay respects, perhaps a family name would guide them.
Iskra goes back to the group to share his intel
Iskra heads back to where they had all first met to discuss the daemons, waiting until at least one more of them had gathered (which would be very awkward if none did), before reciting Freida's knowledge. "The grumpy mother says she saw a dragon deamon at a grave in the barrows a bit further down." Iskra gestures the general way that she had, squinting at the line of graves off in the distance like he wish he knew which specific one. Since she'd been going to pay respects, perhaps a family name would guide them.
Iskra goes back to the group to share his intel
This thing we call life has been taking its toll
