Dragoncrest Cliffs Eleven's breakfast jams

eske was awkward around tears ...and wondered as wildfire led her to the log that her pups slept within if she would be more or less awkward around the pups. if she couldn't train them to fight it was unlikely that her interest would linger long; and she understood that in this stage in their life that they were basically potatoes. with mouths. essentially. dutifully, however, wanlida pays attention, her gaze touching each infant as wildfire introduced them in order (at least eske presumes). tux. kiwi. silkie. rorqual. she didn't understand the naming pattern for any of them and wonders if there even was one; but deduced that she couldn't judge because her name was eske. which evidently meant spear of the gods in her mother's native tongue or something of the like. eske was never one for buying into the whole 'names are prophetic' thing.

eske studies them for a long, contemplative moment. "they're..." she searches for a word. any word. preferably not an insulting word. "er...small." she settles for the most obvious, feeling as awkward as she no doubt sounded. in truth, she didn't really get the appeal but her interests had never lain in the domestic spectrum of things. she was not a home-maker, nor would she ever be she decides right then and there. for while they were kind of cute they also seemed to be pretty boring to her.