Oil and Smoke

Morgan

Snakes are biting at my heels
The worries that refuse to let us go

Thankfully, Hotaru seemed to know how to work with her vague request; Morgan would not have minded being condescended to a little in only this area, with her lack of knowledge, but the respect was appreciated. "I cannot imagine some of the hunters I know ever coming here." She said with a quiet laugh, imagining them; people that lived in the mountains wearing heavy furs and eschewing a lot of daily comforts for their wild lives, coming to lay down in Hotaru's pleasantly scented room.

She looked over the bed and cubicles as Hotaru explained, nodding. "I see. Would you need help for that endeavour?"

Not bothering to use the cubicles to change, Morgan removed her clothes (an endeavour, as she wore many heavy layers, but eventually they were neatly folded and placed into a cubby) and showered; she'd never been easily embarrassed by her body. While she washed, her eyes did drift down to the very light scar of Neron's first bite on her wrist, then her fingers raised to touch the two bumps on her neck. Marks that didn't bother her (if anything they were somewhat nice reminders) but that would lead to an awkward conversation if noticed.

Deciding there was nothing to do about it now, she stepped out and dried herself, tied her hair back and put on the towel. "Oh...I don't know many scents. Nothing too sweet." Morgan said as she came out, tucking in the towel around her chest and going to sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for further instruction.

I've been kicking them away
Been hoping not to let them take control