Dragoncrest Cliffs cry for judas

Even to those who'd never known her and had simply looked, the skayona was renowned for her ever-changing character. It wasn't that she'd recieved the news of heda's passing with impassivity -- heavens no! Aure lingered in the penumbra of Drageda's lamentations. The ivory she-wolf took no amour-propre in this, and the thought of ever percieving such revolted her. But Aure was too... impartial to feel much saddened by their regina's passing. Too... irregularly faraway to be enshrouded in those dark, grieving veils.

With her copii both about two weeks along and accepted by Verx, how could she be? Altogether, she had tended to becoming a little vainglorious... but not in the manner that she truly intended to exult arrogance. Never! ; more than anything, she remained as unawares of her ever-changing auras as always. Either way, the porcelain astronomer charted her way from the heady gloam of Hougeda, arcing towards whichever light of the world befell her in a luxorious stretch.

In the meantime, she wasn't so willingly alienated from her wolven-kind that she wouldn't listen to their plights. It was all she could do for them, and continue to do -- to be some undimming presence, as she could. She would be gentle, and encouraging, but never coddle.

There was, of course, the insistant brush of fangs at her mind; what could have been if that Rusalkan corsair hadn't restricted that sorrowful girl from Aure's throat. Although this incident was so soon after Antumbra, a mute wreathing of her scarred muzzle had her doing what she needed: reporting to the red lady. With glimmering eyes, she spied Blixen along the way, and it was all she needed to thread her long-legged way on over; a gentle wisp of "Híril" to greet her.