Northstar Vale cradle songs of comfort & bones gnawed by teeth
wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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#1
All Welcome 
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It did not matter how much Undómiel advised, really;
those of the Court were free to while away elsewhere, all that they wished; even with omens of that lurking lioness now amongst the Sunspires; even when what prey was to be found was plagued; even when her people were nigh unto starving and had already driven a novice from their midsts. The blaming was upon the renting of the earths and what-ever behemoth beneath them all had seen fit to shoo all source of hunt from field and flock;
and the belief of some hope lie in what accords had been forged ... in one sense, or another. Uaine was private, and perhaps busied with their own footing amongst the flamed hinters; their southern treaty had too been quiet.

Not now; she wends from the frostbound premises;
and it had been several days since last the stricken had spoken with the matron @Star; longer still that she had gone without word to feathered @Kukutux, or the fey likeness of @Tundra; wonders if ever she might come across the path of either sound female, or others. But she knows that there is a warrior within @Wintersbane, and so perhaps their Roads might cross again. If she is to provide and to protect ... she must not remain as hushed as she has so been.
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#2
since that day, kukutux had avoided agana as much as she was able, given their proximity to one another. her slumber had been convulsed with wakefulness, wonderings about the sensation in her chest which made no sign it would be leaving, and intensified when the mink's visage crossed her mind's eye.

kukutux threw herself headlong into winter tasks: she gathered what little edible grasses there were, stripped gristle from the underside of hides and chewed it into paste, spent long hours along in the frosted vale searching for those rare snowflowers that only grow in empty fields. she fished when she was able, jealously guarded her catches from bold, hungry rooks, and froze sticks of hare-meat and pika flesh in the caches.

so many tasks she took until nightfall finally brought an exhausted sleep that chased away all other thoughts or considerations of what had happened between herself and agana.

it was a quiet girl who met their silent pale undómiel upon a frost-hardened path. she let her lips light with a friendly smile, small crown dipping in a bow — but she did not wish to be stopped, oh she did not wish it! for then all those things might return.
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wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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#3
tiny post srysry + vague on Aggie Things 

, in the person of Kukutux;
the soft smile is met with the cool cast of her own; which is not necessarily devoid of warmth, of course; merely that Undómiel had found little to distract herself by means a of diverted and mirthful nature. Few times had it been when she had meandered along, and found the fowl toiling away with a potency that is appreciated; familiar. It seems that several throughout the Court have become ensnared in such shroudments;
and perhaps it is why that Andraste slows her step with that webthin smile; adamant to allow another to glean her clopsided, clumsy rhetoric. Rather, she looks upon the shying Quidalmë and chirrups, musingly:  "What word does your birthstongue use, in saying winter?"  and then! his murmured voice within the feathered arch of ear! Nitch jetzt—!
Nears the rabbitworn duck with an interest that is willing to learn; to let the chords of another fill her mind's disquiet.
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a supple look, but one that commanded all the same. hindering a sigh, kukutux offered a wan smile to the ukallik. "we have many names for snow,"  the duck revealed, approaching andraste. 

she had not forgotten her words; she only felt nerves beginning as she realized she did not have all the means to convey them. "aniu," the duck murmured, motioning to their path. "milik," she went on, lifting delicate muzzle to the gentle snowflakes trickling skyward.
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wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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#5
There was no judgement within Andraste's bearing; only some faint, wearied resignment that had nothing to do with qualms against the duck  (not that she had ever regarded her with such in the first place). To forget, to move on from ash, wormwood; her focus upon the tribeswoman's clicking tongue was as rapt as she could manage, and as genuine as could be. What-ever words were given for such things as snow, the fairylight tucked them all the same into the reccesses of her mind, so that she might mull over them when quietude was more readily recieved. 

"Have you ever seen ze mountainpeaks bring color to ze skies?"  Perhaps, and perhaps not; and perhaps some mere pall of silence would fall o'er the pair, and be all the more suitable when words were so few and the silver faced much strife in the face of plain word. Ears flickering; and at length she sought to convey a means of ... connection, however fumbling.  "Many times were my birthlands blessed with such sights. It ... has been some time since I have seen them. I have never know them to have e'er occured, here, however."
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#6
kukutux did not immediately know what andraste meant, and a pregnant quiet did drift for a time between them as she mulled upon it. yet in a short while she brightened, nodded.

"we call them the dancing lights," the duck ventured timidly. "that is where the spirit world is." there, ghosts built their ulaqs and conversed with one another, happy to be finally done with the days of work they had done when they lived.

her family was there now; kukutux could all but picture them: gentle star beings who waited for her to join them.

the thought infused her with a warmth she had not felt in a long time, followed by a sickening lurch of sorrow. the duck looked away, looked down, and pressed on.
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wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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#7
last so we can have a new one v v soon

A spirit world of dancing lights;
it was not a terrible thing to imagine, to conjure up, non-believing as her own self might be. Who was to say that myriad realms did not exist in the prismatic veils that come of sun's drapings o'er allworld? Not that she would ever know, of course  —  but she felt the sullen shifting within the air that they breathed of another, and even Undómiel knew when to continue quieted;
for now, she keeps as to herself and her own sorrows as the fowl does of hers; flocking along the path that Kukutux had so set, and assumed the role of tenant and listener.