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Two thousand acres of land is a lot of space for a Thyrsus to ramble, and on many days, Fox spends that time rambling in one of many many animals forms. She's been a hawk, he's been a swarm of ants, they've been a night heron.
Tonight, however, she's a small woman in a clean pair of cut-off-jean shorts and a clean tank top which reads SLEEVES ARE BORING across the chest, and she's rambling barefoot through a segment of woods, leading the way through the woods toward the river. "One of the major tributaries dumps into the Susquehanna not far from here," she explains, "and it becomes really slow and pools up. It's not too hard to put up a filter if you're worried about the water. Good to clean it anyway."
Elizabeth trails in Fox's wake, hiking boots, khaki shorts and her vest over a much more boring tanktop completing her own ensemble. "Do you say that for my benefit, Sir? Or are you sharing general environmental advice?" She's not shy about keeping close to Master Fox, walking the line between crowding and lagging behind. Her head's on a swivel, though not with anything close to concern- it's a new area and she's curious about what lies around the park along their path.
"Oh, I was just sort of talking," Fox answers over her shoulder, bare feet crunching subtly through the summer-soft leaves mulching under her feet, pad-padding over brief bits of open ground with a few clumps of grass sticking up where the sun gets through during the day. A fallen tree across her intended path means the Thyrsus places a hand on its mossy surface, hopping over it. She passes a white birch, reaches up to break off a thin, new branch, and adeptly peels the outer bark before starting to gnaw the tasty inner bark off the wood. "But I am showing you my favorite swimming spot, so. Talking about water quality makes sense, I guess. In case you were concerned. We are still in the city, technically." It sure doesn't feel that way right now, though.
Elizabeth pauses briefly to watch Fox chew on the branch, pausing to look for another new branch like Fox took and doing her best to replicate the tricky little bark extraction. "Well, it doesn't much seem cityish any longer. And I wasn't super concerned about the water." Not that it'd be hard for either of them to clean pollutants out of it, though she'd need Fox to handle any parasites. "I like listening to you talk. You have a lot more understanding of the world around us. My view of things is pretty narrow. I focus on- well. Things." She tries to nibble the twig like Fox did, unsure if she did it right.
It's not the easiest, but even if she does end up chewing on a little of the outer bark, it's thin and papery and comes off easily. She'll just end up spitting out bits of it. No big deal. Fox turns back, looking over her shoulder and smiling with those sharp little teeth flashing bright in the moonlight at the Obrimos. "You could be better with people, and not-people, if you wanted to, Elizabeth. It would do you good to expand past -- things." There's no real reproach in her voice, just thoughtfulness. "I like being out here. But there's life all over the place, no matter how much cities try to repress it. It's just... is it balanced? Is it good?" She dodges a step to the left to avoid a blackberry bramble, and comes around a large tree to a portion of a creek that's bent like a swollen knee, and where that swelling is, the water is still and mostly placid, reflecting the waxing gibbous moon.
"A lot of the time, that's no. But I try to find the good in it still, and make it better." Fox clambers up on a large rock by the water, crouching on it. There's enough space to come up next to her, on her right, if Elizabeth wants to.
That's precisely where Elizabeth heads, coming to perch beside Fox, spitting out little slivers of bark and nibbling the startlingly tasty layer beneath. "I guess. I like things because they aren't judgmental or rude. Things don't wonder why I spend so much time focused on them, or criticize me for it. You aren't wrong, I don't think." She nibbles a little more. "It's just a preference."
"I think you are good at finding that good," she murmurs, looking down into the still waters.
She looks not a little like a children's picture of a farmer, save that she's got a small branch sticking out of the corner of her mouth instead of a piece of straw. Fox reaches aside, gently touching the steel bracelet on Elizabeth's wrist; she turns it carefully around the Obrimos' arm thoughtfully. "I suppose that's true," Fox answers, turning her gaze from that object up to Elizabeth's face. Her strange eyes catch the moonlight briefly, reflecting back eyeshine the way a fox's would. "People can be so very... people. But I do think it would be good for you to get a little better with them, if only because you'd get to do so many more cool things with the stuff you work so well with."
Her smile softens, then. "I try really hard to do that. Some days it's difficult." A pause. "Are you all right?"
That's clearly a good approach to take, as it leaves Liezel nodding faintly, clearly thinking the idea over. "That makes sense, Sir." Her tone's softened, as it typically does whenever she's reminded of that everpresent band round her wrist. "And you do work hard. I can tell." The question lingers, and she has to stop and think, nodding after a moment. "Yes, Sir. I was- remembering how other people have meant it when they said that. It wasn't to encourage me to do more things I liked. It was to tell me I wasn't sufficient. That it wasn't okay to just be me."
"It's not an order," Fox clarifies, her voice just as quiet, as if the forest itself is leaning in to listen in on their conversation, and she wants to make sure that they're not overheard. "You'll do what you want in this case, and I'm not trying to tell you that you must do anything different." That hand rises to carefully push a curl out of Elizabeth's face, and her smile softens as her voice has. "I want you to be good at what you like," she agrees. "I want you to be the best at what you like. And I can see how ... struggling with people sometimes means that you don't get to do the things that you want. That's all."
"I heard you did very well with the rats in Centralia, though." Fox sits down on the rock then instead of crouching, and hangs her feet over the water. "Tell me about it?"
Elizabeth's eyes turn up as those fingers coax her curls away from them, a gentle, spreading smile starting below. "I was pretty sure it wasn't, Sir- but I appreciate that you took the time to say so." The encouragement to be the best at what she likes, that widens the smile still. "You're right, of course. And I'll at least look into trying to practice with people a little more, Sir. It might help me decide to take that challenge on."
The question about the rats has her thinking back on it. "It was-" She pauses, chin ducking a moment, frowning, the movement of her eyes suggesting an organizing of thoughts. "... it was overall successful, and I did my job well, with the support provided. There were some decisions I don't agree with, but they weren't my decisions to make, and I'm satisfied with my part."
She looks over as Fox asks to hear about it, and she nods. "Do you want an overview, or a story? I don't think I would be very good with a story, Sir, but I'd try." For Fox, she'd try, anyhow.
"I like to be clear and precise with you, because it works best for you if I am clear and precise," answers Fox thoughtfully, pushing a little more of Elizabeth's curls out of her face, and leaning to kiss her cheek familiarly. She absently flexes her toes, swinging one of her feet in the air. "Good. I look forward to seeing you become the best version of yourself, while I try to become the best version of me." Her smile is sharp, because it can't help but be any other way.
Her hand comes to rest on Elizabeth's wrist again, a subtly supportive gesture, her grubby fingers resting on that cool, smooth steel. "Tell me a story," she answers. After all, she just asked Elizabeth to try to be better at things just like this.
Elizabeth's cheeks color eagerly at the touch of lips, brushing past. "I don't doubt you'll always be the best version of yourself, no matter how many legs that version might have today, Sir," she offers sincerely. But then? A story is requested, and she frowns again, partly in thought and partly in memory. "The approach was clean. I liked that. I stayed back, picked off two of the six sentries. I had time to aim, and I was firing 7.62 by 51mm rounds-" She pauses, and translates for Fox. "High-caliber rifle rounds designed for long distances- from my handgun. I emptied my mag from a couple blocks away and they were done. Vasha and Leta were setting them up for kills with flamethrowers. They did good work." Pause. Grimace. "They did mostly good work."
"It was still smooth after that, too. I stopped the sounds around a burrow of theirs, and we lit them up after chucking grenades in. Clean sweep, no sentries alerted. It let us ambush the main body in the huge chamber from the mezzanine up top. That's where things got messy." She sighs, a little frustrated just thinking back. "I think we could have kept it clean if we'd only had one person going off mission. But we had two, and Vasha couldn't clean up fast enough by himself. He tried, though, but-"
She falls silent again, struggling with the intersect between the truth and trying not to speak badly about anyone. She's having a hard time resolving a conflict, at least- that much is visible.
Laughter curls out from Fox at that compliment. "Well, I try, Elizabeth. But I can't possibly be the very best version of myself, because tomorrow I might be a better version of myself. So I can only be the best version that I can be right now." It's all very philosophical, in a very Thyrsus way, but then she quiets down, her attention turned fully to Elizabeth's retelling. No one's actually given her any real details about this until now, after all, and her attention is rapt, eager.
"Tell me the whole truth, Elizabeth. You owe me the whole truth more than you owe anyone else false kindness."
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