Pomona turned to find a man standing at the crossroads. "Oh, hello! Are you also interested in the ruins as well? My name is Pomona" She extended her clawed hand to him, offering a handshake. Privately, she found him somewhat strange, with his ashen skin and frayed robe. Then again, she found the presence of hair on one's head to be an oddity, and she never understood footwear. Of course, she dressed in very little, with only a loincloth, a top, and a belt with a pouch and two scabbards for her daggers. Otherwise, her soft, pink and white skin was totally uncovered. At least she believed in some decency, as she would not let anyone see her in anything less, at least in public.