Dragoncrest Cliffs like an old guitar worn out and left behind

Eye-contact was oddly comforting to Tirgatao, but only around those she trusted. Somehow, she felt as if she could trust the russet woman, but she had no way of explaining that to her. Her emotions ran deep, and she still worried that her outburst during her conversation with Portia had soured the Drageda against her. She wanted to be involved, and wanted to be trusted. One mistake did not define Tirgatao, but it could. So far she felt as if she was in the clear, and when Wildfire didn't look away, Tirgatao warmed significantly to her. The cast of her eyes and the languidity of her demeanor did not suggest she was challenging the Bandrona but, rather, wanted to see her. 

Finally, she looked away, satisfied. A tender smile pulled at her lips, "Not where I belong." She remarked with heartfelt sincerity, but quickly moved on. She didn't comment on her discussion with Heda earlier that month and though Thuringwethil hadn't revealed the details of such things, she had a fairly good idea of what happened before she arrived. It simply wasn't her place, especially now that the storm had passed. "I do. I often partnered with our Fisa, though she did most of the coaching through the actual birth. Portia holds that role here in Drageda, correct?" Tirgatao reached out to bump Wildfire on the shoulder, and chuckled. "Between you and I, the chances of you having trouble with all of us around are pretty damn slim."