Blackfeather Woods Think of those autographs I'll sign: Good luck to ya'

Ughh yes they do e A e

If told to choose who was her favorite brother, Potema would never decide. Both had a special place in her heart and she loved them enough to long for their presence while she was training in Hag Fen. But she could not deny that she and Damien were closer emotionally. Cicero still remained an enigma, though he was one to all, but he was still her cunning, philosophical, intelligent brother; the Spy to her Priestess. Perhaps it was because of their adopted trades that they related to each other so differently. Priests were comforting to all, a spiritual guide who was skilled in the art of herbs and magic. Assassins and Spies had much more in common with each other than they did with Priests. But that didn't bother her. She still was happy to see both of her brothers alive and well, none moreso than the other.

She returned his physical greetings with ones of her own, licking Damien's face, right underneath his eye, and rubbing his cheek with hers. Her eyes followed his as a Wisp bloomed in front of them, and Potema breathed wistfully. She had missed those little balls of light.

Potema turned back to her brother and listened to him as he spoke. She understood immediately what he wanted: to speak with Mother once more. It wasn't fair to call Damien a momma's boy, but he had taken her death the hardest out of them all. Potema nodded hesitantly. She wanted to say: "I want to take care of the living before I take care of the dead." But paused before the words slipped her lips.