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"Spare some change?"

The clinking of a cup accompanied the phrase, the sound of few coins jingling inside of it.

"Spare some change for the needy?" The ewe repeated again, voice droning, exhausted.

The winter chill bit at any exposed flesh, and with the ragged clothes the homeless ewe wore, Grace couldn't help but have sympathy nip at her in the same way the cold did. She could only imagine the way the wind whipped at the poor thing, worry prodding at her heart.

Grace stopped in front of the ewe, thick, furred coat bundled up around herself, cello case across her back and a small handbag on the opposite. Grace, modestly dressed, looked quite radiant in the morning air. Winter had come particularly early that year, and it showed.

The trees showed it, the air felt it, and the little ewe bundled against the ground displayed the sight of it all the more prominently. Even through the thick swathes of soiled cloth and clearly mismatched blankets, Grace could tell the girl was a waifish thing. Small, likely young, not the sort that should be sitting on the side of the street begging. She'd seen this shape before, seen them quite a few times. They were always here, always begging for anything and everything. Some days, Grace even went as far as to offer her lunch, or the few bits that she had on her. Other times, Grace walked past like so many other in the crowds.

By now, the ewe had realized Grace's staring, leveling piercing blue eyes up towards her. "Spare change?" she asked, the voice sounding hopeful. It was high-pitched, sounding almost girlish, vulnerable in a way that only young woman could pull off.

Grace sighed and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, dear. I'm afraid that I don't have any bits on me, though I must admit I've seen you quite a bit. What's your name?" she asked daring to take a step forward.

The other mare scooted back, pressing against the wall, as if Grace would hurt her. That sparked another thought within the cultured mare's head: abuse. Or fear, one of the two. Nobody would have been left on the streets this young and this scared unless something had happened to them.

Vale was quite the city. None stayed on its streets for long, though the reasons why would be as various as the citizens of the city themselves. Some shelter took them in, some family care for them, some even found their own jobs after a while. To consistently see this one down on her luck with no change.... well now, that was different, wasn't it?

The ear may have kept her down, but the ewe managed to answer Grace's question nonetheless. "Gwyn," she answered back. The ewe's eyes darted to the left and then the right, as if looking for an escape, a way out.

"It's very pleasant to meet you, Miss Gwyn. My name is Grace Evergreen, perhaps you've heard of me?" she asked, unable to help the pride swelling in her chest. But she waved a hand, as if to dismiss the thought. "Or perhaps not." Grace couldn't help but laugh at herself a little - the orchestra wasn't quite as popular these days as it used to be. She rapidly changed the subject: "It's cold outside, isn't it?" she asked, doing her best to sound caring, confident. Grace wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery, discern why Gwyn had stayed on this corner for so long.

"It's not that bad." Gwyn answered, though the way she directed her eyes downwards made Grace suspect the girl lied. "You get used to it and all. Besides, a few people have given me some more clothes," she added, shifting where she sat enough to show off one of the multiple jackets draped around her frame. "You know how generous everyone here is. I get well fed at least," Gwyn said, slowly, deliberately. Grace imagined the other woman chose her words carefully.

"Oh, yes, of course," Grace replied. She inspected the form before her a little more carefully, trying to judge if they were stolen. She'd grown so used to seeing fine thread and needlework that even she could tell that the ones Gwyn wore were worn down, used and abused. "How exactly did you end up out here anyways, Miss Gwn?"

Gwyn leaned against the side of the building a little more, though a wool covered hand reached out and brought her cup of change back against her. For just the briefest of seconds, Grace would have sworn she saw mild terror on that expression. "You know how it is. Ran out of money. Didn't have anywhere else to stay. Not really good at anything," she answered, with a small shrug.

A lie. Such a pure and simple lie. Gwyn's filthy, white ear had flicked. She'd looked away. Her body had been shifting back and forth, betraying her discomfort. High society taught people all of these cues, they'd taught Grace how to behave and how to notice when others manipulated. And Gwyn lied. The homeless in Vale didn't lie, it was such a surefire way of losing your chance, why would you? Grace curiosity only bit at her harder.

"I see," Grace answered instead. A gamble. She could spend some time on a gamble, couldn't she? It was the weekend, she had some time, she had the space, and she could certainly use the company. What other plans did she have? Spend another several hours moping about the estate? Perhaps practicing her instrument for the millionth time? Such was the life of a recluse. Which begged a different question instead: Why not?

"Well, Miss Gwyn, I can't offer you any money, but I can perhaps offer you something better?" Grace paused for dramatic effect, watching the hesitant, fearful looking ewe examine her. Gwyn didn't believe her. "How would you like to come to my home for breakfast? I'll feed you and ensure you have better clothes to come back with. Think of it as a way for you to get something warm in you," she offered. Grace's muzzle split into a kind grin.

It was all about sincerity. Grace sincerely wanted to help Gwyn, something just struck out as so different. A person couldn't stay on the streets so long, and no type of scam would leave one homeless for so long. She had to do something, even if it would only benefit her for today. Apparently, Gwyn didn't quite believe her either, something that hardly bothered Grace. Who hadn't heard terrifying stories about entering a stranger's house?

Desperation won through with a loud growl of hunger. The smaller woman sized Grace up with a look, one that seemed assured of her chances. She nodded her head, hands scrambling to stuff an old, threadbare pack full with her things. "Okay. Just for breakfast, right?" she asked, still sounding suspicious. Up the dirty white sheep stood, a little unsure on her hooves, a little back and forth.

Success, such sweet success. This poor thing needed helped, and perhaps Grace could be the one to give it to her. She smiled a little wider, showing her happiness. "Of course. Just for breakfast. Perhaps we could get you a shower and one of my coats as well," she suggested. That may have been a bit much, but she'd already said it and there would be no taking it back now. Grace turned on her own hooves, the antlered doe prepared to lead her new, worried friend. "Come along. Let's get out of this cold," she went on.

To Grace's happiness, Gwyn did follow her. A little more slowly, a little more hesitant, but still coming. She kept peeking over her shoulder, as if she expected someone to be following them, but at least she came. Grace really didn't know how she managed to carry that pack. Briefly, she couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since Grace had had another person over. Servants didn't count, so... months, perhaps? Maybe even a full year. Was it pathetic or altruistic to take a homeless woman home for company?

"So how long have you been doing this?" Grace asked, wanting to keep the conversation continuing. "Have you been safe? I imagine that living on the streets isn't exactly the most pleasant of livings," she noted. She could only imagine how absolutely chilled to the bone Gwyn felt. Grace, even in her warm, furred coat and a doe's body couldn't help but shiver occasionally. Gwyn only had a patchwork mess and thin, ratty looking wool.

"Oh. You know, a few months," Gwyn answered, noncommittal and looking over her shoulder again. "Yea, it kinda sucks. You really do get used to it, though. And Vale is a nice city for it. There's a lot of rich women who have a lot of sympathy, though some of them are kind of bitches sometimes," Gwynl went on, the most she'd said since the start.

Gwyn looked over her shoulder again, a frown setting into her muzzle. "Hey, look, you aren't like... going to murder me or anything? I mean, everyone has heard about stuff like that. You don't really seem like the type, but just so you know I can really handle myself in a fight!" She finished, nodding her head, apparently quite determined of herself.

A clear peel of laughter erupted from Grace's throat, the girl shaking her head slowly. "Of course not. I was simply thinking we could warm you up and get a good meal in your belly. Nothing more, nothing less. Are you worried that I would?" she asked, shooting an almost teasing glance over her shoulder.

A nod answered her instead. Grace heart darkened in her chest. She could only imagine what that felt like. Before she had a chance to pry more, Gwyn spoke instead.

"Hey, is that a cello case, by the way? I noticed it when you were walking by. Can you play it?" Gwyn asked. She hurried up a bit more, getting even with Grace side and peering down at the case.

Pleasant surprise bolstered Grace, strengthening the decision that she'd already made. "Yes, it's a cello, and yes, I can play it. I've been practicing it my entire life," she explained. Grace ensured that she kept her eyes on the other mare. "I'm part of the Capital's symphony. We're generally kept on retainer for things such an inauguration events or charity balls. The rest of the time, we go on tour.."

Gwyn arched an eyebrow at that. "Really? Huh. That's pretty neat. I used to be able to play. Well, I could play the piano mostly, but..." Gwyn pulled one of her sleeves back, showing her right hand which had been previously hidden. Underneath the fabric, Gwyn's hand revealed itself, the poor thing missing her thumb and pinkie on that hand. "Can't really do it without that, you know?" Gwyn went on, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Grace could tell it bothered her. That flash of hurt was obvious, even if Gwyn did go right back down to looking at the ground afterwards. What musician could handle that? "How did that happen, dear? I'm so sorry. It looks painful," she soothed, trying to offer some of her own sympathy.

"It's no biggie." Another lie. One all the more obvious. "Accidents happen. It was a machinery malfunction where I used to work and wow is this where you live?"

They had indeed stepped onto the walkway leading to Grace house. In Vale, merely having a walkway meant having a great deal of wealth. Having a walkway with a fully furnished garden leading up to an old style manor... Well, that was an even more obvious display.

Grace blushed faintly, trying to play it off as they walked up the little path way. "It is, yes. The Capital's Orchestra pays well. Shall we?" she asked. Grace reached to open the door for her guest, ushering inwards and into a new life.