Stavanger Bay no thanks I already 8

The golden-eyed muse’s low, pleasing voice sounded forth in the wake of Lotte’s bumbling reply — below the chatter of voices that praised Chusi for her tale, below the pound of shuffling bodies, below the rhythmic shh-shhhhh of the sighing surf. “I will bring new young into the world,” said she, the heavy solemnity of her tone causing the soot-stockinged hoyden’s small, bearlike ears to draw forward upon her skull with unabashed interest. A clench of emotion gripped her: “Ai, tyhmä tyttö, mitä olet tehnyt?” she softly uttered, wishing that she was not privy to such information. She knew that she would not speak of Doe’s young to Constantine lest their magic be unmade — she knew also that she would someday tell the odd-eared dancer why she could no longer be known as Kitku, and what she had done in Kitku’s name. Selfishly, the confused young rogue postponed the unveiling of her lie — Doe was too alluring and Lotte too smitten to do away with the closeness they shared.

Her voice was husky with the depth of her feeling as she fervently intoned, “All the world’s happiness to you, päiväperhonen, and to — ” She nodded toward Doe’s abdomen, loathe to besmirch their existence with Kitku’s dagger tongue. “All of your brightness and all of your mate’s strength, and all the vastness of the sea.” Lotte summoned a smile for the mother-to-be, burying the dark chill she felt and granting Doe a secret in turn. “There is someone I miss,” she confessed. “My kaksonen — in your tongue, my twin. He is the one I love the most.” It was information Lotte was loathe to part with, for Dagfinn was her greatest strength and her greatest vulnerability. Still, Doe had given her more than she deserved and she was eager to make up for it — even if Doe didn’t know she was doing it.