Barrow Fields i don't fly around your fire anymore

And like a mother more than prepared to nurse her stubborn whelp, it was with a knit brow and beseeching pout of her lips that Aure neared the harpy. ”Fine,” she lilted softly, deeming it better to at least appease to Caphias’ request so it may be fair to her own. Yet, she raised her gaze with a chiding of, ”But we will be doing this my way. And don’t think of nipping at me, domnișoară, or I will go right to ze sea for some salt.” Pale eyes creased with reprimand, and then she motioned for Caphias to sit down.

And then, without prejudice or thought of consequence, she settled down before the Rusalkan alphess and began to work. Usually, she would have intended for a patient to consume properties prior to application, but not this time. These would be better served as topicals.

Between licks of the gash that had lain her neck open, Aure’s own clucking seemed to have no end. ”Look at you, all torn up like this. Am I asking for world peace? Am I asking for less patients? No. But, good heavens, is it so terrible to ask that ze hoard of you could please refrain from lying another open to ze bone?” Her gaze glittered, tone forever scolding. ”I really don’t know how you have been able to keep yourself standing—no, not because you are ze fear-instilling lady of ze Sound. ‘Busy.’ Pah! Busy, she says! You really think you could have gone so long without attending to?”

As she spoke, she moved further along Caphias, to where the rest of her hurts ran their course. ”Weeks! Weeks without attention. Look at this! Y-you are inconceivable! I simply won’t stand for it.” With a squeak of incredulity, she drew away, hefting some dried horsetail and beginning to work it into a poultice.

Mouth full, she settled for fixing Caphias with an admonishing look, tail feathering reprovingly. Somehow, the pout was still there.