Dragoncrest Cliffs midas is king & he holds me so tight

She knew what it meant when greeted with some wariness; like so many others, she was no stranger to it. The look of reserved kindness didn't leave her once-lovely face, but rather stayed. Ears, thick for more colder dawns, leant forward at his words, catching them like dew on a spider’s web—Eastwood. Her mind mused over the name, considering it and turning it over; contemplating it like a new thread in the skies, wondering how it would fare from here on.

The ivory she-wolf supposed was likened to that, too. Nonetheless, she harbored his name in the recesses of her mind, and offered her own to compensate for the quiet between them, “My name is Aure.” Gentle, breathy, with an airy bite in the words that was neither ferocious or unkindly; only foreign.

More often than not, she was a mediator—a perfect listener, unless she was prone to find star-stuff in the bearing of another. How they moved, brandished their words. Her eyes, as they always did, had moseyed up to the morning heavy-blue heavens; where the rest of these constellations had faded back into the beginnings of sun’s shine, only an armful of them continued to steadfastly blaze on.

“I’m not sure if we have met, before? With what ze newcomers at ze sound, everything seems to have become... stilted in disharmony.” It was true she wasn’t apart of Drageda, the kru. Not yet. A part of herself still lingered at the possibility; providing her astronomical efforts to them may yet secure her place here. ‘Prove’ herself, as it be. But she couldn’t help but wonder how—when the children of these cliffs relied on salted warriors and healers?