Hushed Willows [festival] remember what you were made to be. remember your words.

As far as the astronomess knew, there had been none upon the cliffs to tell her all that came with motherhood; there was Rose, but the russet has been previously absent, and thus Aure hasn’t inquired much. Instead, she'd been taking upon herself what Olive now bid: listening to her womb, and the new, heavenly bodies that formed within. However, the oracle spoke of deities, then, and a thin ear curved back of its own accord; not of offense, but of that of a non-believer, and a bit of doubtfulness in this ideology instead.

In Rhaesuial, tenants or no, there had been those who had faith in the northern stars as the souls, embodiments, or otherwise as gods. Being nurtured as an heiress had allowed her to broaden her horizons on such a prospect, and for some time, she’d entertained what it must be like to believe in a higher All-father. Arguments of what had to have created their Eä arose, and still did, and usually simmered down to ”my child, this world works in mysterious ways.” That, it did. But she was no longer a child.

​Modesty, bashfulness, unsurety — those were felt, though, as Olive settled some smidgens closer and let the amor for her divinities leave her lips, all while looking at her so unabashedly, as if... Aure were a star that the midwife sought to chart, to know. The astronomess had regarded the world and all its souls in such a way, but had never been taken to in return — undeserving as she was. A sheepish little curl of her lips had her mute, ears flickering back along her skull, eyes treading along her paws. They looked quite dainty from here, she thinks.

”F-forgive me, domana, I am not all too familiar with ze notion of gods,” she admitted, looking back to Olive with flushed humility, draping one delicate wrist about the other. Perhaps she could learn more, disbelief regardless? It was always good to have reserves, after all... ”Might I ask you tell me more, though? What they whisper of, and how I should know?” Ivory shoulders curled forward with meek, diligent interest; an inquisitive adapter, as always.