The pale Donnelaith princess returns from the wilderness with a freshly broken heart. Her paws are sore and her head hurts, but she is far from hungry-- the only positive she can find. The girl crosses the border with a glassy gaze and a feint buzzing in her ears, but the noise doesn't bother her. She isn't really thinking of anything, but sometimes thoughts drifts through her mind, begging for attention. She pays none of them mind, and eventually finds herself in the heart of Donnelaith. She had definitetly traveled, but she does not feel like any time has passed.

Aria does not bother finding her den. Instead she lays herself down on the ground, a few grassy patches sprouting up around her, and lets out a soft sigh. She is tired, sore, and lonely. A great combination for any teenage girl.

The pale girl raises her head as the younger arrives, forcing a weak smile at the young Mayfair. "Deirdre," she replies quietly, her tail wagging slowly, thumping gently against the ground. She has seen the grass-- yes-- but has not taken much notice of it. She wonders what the child means by Spirits-- curious if it is similar to her own beliefs-- but makes no immediate comment about it. 

"I know, Miss Mayfair." She smiles, and drops the only word she has to pin down her own religion, "Their souls have returned-- the forest is living again." She touches her nose to the ground for a moment, her ears falling flat against her skull as Deirdre begins to speak again, this time with questions Aria fears. She retracts them, but the pale alpha answers anyway, knowing she means well-- besides, she has a right to know.

"I went to look for food," she says quietly, "and perhaps a new home, if it came down to it." She fails to mention that she had almost abandoned Donnelaith completely, instead moving on. "Don't worry about it, Deirdre, I was gone a while, you have a right to know," she tells her, smiling and glancing back at the white witch. 

Aria listens to the child speak and smiles kindly at her. Deirdre was not so much younger than she was, but as she talks to the child the more she wishes she had children of her own. The girl nods, "You know the forest better than I do," she says softly. She has never truly felt the souls she knows of, but in times like these she can see them at work. The trees budding, the grass growing-- she supposes Deirdre may be truthful in saying they never died-- could a soul die? She has never pondered this.

It was then that Aria is taken back, frightened for a moment that Deirdre may know her secret. She shakes her head quickly, repeating the word 'no' a handful of times before she speaks an actual sentence. "No, my Deirdre-- of course I would not leave," she says, shoving the lie away after it is spoken. "I looked for a place for the pack as a whole-- I found nowhere as perfect as Donnelaith." Another lie, for the plateau was one of the most beautiful places she's ever seen-- especially when it was green again, she assumes. "I did, however, find Casmir, your brother," she adds, her smile faultering for a moment.  She does not wish to talk about it in full, really, but feels that Deirdre would be more at ease to know her brother was ok.

Aria lets out a brief laugh, her lips curved in a small smile. "Am I that readable, Deirdre?" she asks the child, not expecting a response. She dips her muzzle and nudges the girls shoulder gently with affection. "You're quite the face reader-- regardless," she says quietly, partially avoiding the question. By now, Deirdre is half a year old and much more mature than most wolves her own age. Perhaps, it would be okay to tell her...

Aria cannot speak for Emaleth, but she is quite fond of the white Mayfair child-- she reminds her of herself. As she stares at the pale witch, she studies her bright eyes before finally letting out a long breath and looking away into the woods for a moment. "When you were still a tiny pup-- still nursing and crawling-- your brother and I were in love," she tells her slowly, her lips twitching into a small smile. She glances to Deirdre to see a reaction before she continues.

Aria smiles. "Similarly, yes. But there are differences," she tells her sweetly, giving her forehead a gentle kiss. "I love you in a way that I love Casmir, yes, but our love is different," she tells her, hiding the fact that hearing the child say she loved her warmed every part of her body. 

"You see," she begins, shifting her weight to one side as she grew more comfortable where she laid, "We were in love." Her smile falters again, and she glances away from the witch. "To be in love means to love someone with romantic intents-- do you know that word, Deirdre? Your mother and father were in love, which is why they got married, and why they had children." 

Her face runs hot, and she giggles, but shakes her head. "No, no, sweetheart," she tells her quietly. "That's not what that means," she says, smiling and nudging the child with amusement. After a moment though, her frown fades. "Deirdre, what did you say about Renoir?" she asks, her ears pricked and her eyes wide with wonder and worry. To Aria, love knows no age. She had been in a sexual relationship with a man more than triple her age for a while now, but even she understands that there is a fine line between child and young adult-- and young Deirdre has not quite crossed that line.

She wants to go back and attempt to reexplain what she means by 'in love', but she's now too wrapped around this topic.

She purses her lips, staring at the child quietly. For now, she will let it slide, for she does not truly know the extent of the situation and Deirdre seems unharmed by the man. She is too innocent to know her fears, and perhaps will never have to deal with them. "Of course I love you, dear," she says sweetly, smiling in an attempt to cover her discontent with the previous topic.

"There are different loves, Deirdre," she begins, "One for those who are special to you. I love you in this way, and you love all of your family and friends in this way." She nudges the witch gently. "The second kind of love is for that wolf who you love forever above everyone else. You can care for everyone else, but this one wolf will always be more important to you. You will want to spend every waking minute with this wolf because you can't stand to be apart from them. You will whisper sweet words to one another in the night as you lay beside one another because you want them to know how much you care. And, when the time is right, you will secure your love by having a family of your own. Does this make sense, Deirdre? Do you see the difference?" she asks, hoping to have gotten her point across. 

"I loved Casmir like this. He was my special one who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. But Casmir grew anxious, and decided that he did not love me in this special way--" for lack of better explaination "--and he ran away. I've searched for him for ages-- but that is the first time I've seen him since he left." Her gaze falls to her paws.

Her expression darkens, but out of confusion. "Of course," she says quietly, but for the life of her can't truly remember. She knows that Casmir knows she loves him, and vis versa-- but she knows that Casmir's love is different. He is no longer in love with her, and it hurts to say such out loud. "But I am not his, and so he did not return home with me."

As the child speaks, Aria finds herself smiling. "Perhaps," she replies, her tail thumping against the ground with content. "Wouldn't that be great," she adds quietly, more for herself than in response to the witch. "And Deirdre, although he may not be my special one, we will still always love each other-- just as friends should," she says, hoping that concept would get through to the girl as well.

"Thank you, Deirdre, I will see you soon," she says, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of the young witch. After seeing the child off, she rests her head on her paws and closes her eyes, drifting to sleep. Howvever, she does not dream of any far off prince coming to rescue her from her tower-- she dreams of Casmir.