Dragoncrest Cliffs & Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, (mtr.)

The herbalist wasn’t prepared (would never be) for how deeply her heart thrummed at the sight of him. How her springy ribs shivered out a breath, soul keening. It took her a moment or so to find her voice, ”I... I, I’m sure I am well. It’s only...” She held herself from him, as if she thought herself too frail, too paling to be in such familiar quarters with him. ”My belly, it— I think ze copii are kicking. Olive told me what it would feel like, but...” How her delicate shoulder cinched inward, how she kept her traitorous eyes on his shadow, nevermind his nose — all spoke hesitancy. As if even this meeting pulled aside this despondent curtain that now lingered between them.

She’d carried her own guilt with her; subtle as it was, like delicate filigree, but there all the same. It had draped itself about her withdrawn airs like some private, melancholic shawl. This, she wore with what she thought was befitting and proper — tending to him from the start had been her fault, hadn’t it? And then she’d only pushed him further when he was already so strained, like the fool she was; knew that she tampered with a storm, but soared for its eye either way.

For the past few weeks they’d been apart, missing him aside, she’d taken care of herself as she could — and worried over how torn he must still be. Either he would be further repulsed by her or not, but she finally looked into the murky depths of his eyes all the same; slim jaw worked voicelessly for a few heartbeats, ears pressing back into the down of her mane, "I'm so sorry, intruding, I-" Not just in this moment, but... in the last, too.

Actually? Damn it all: ”I needed to see you.” Not wanted, although it was quite true — but needed to. Not just for all this uneasy tumbling of the children, for the children; Aure wasn’t one to toe around for the reasons she felt the way she did.

A tremor worked her skull, took her gleaming eyes to the moonlit view of the lake. She could never hate him, condemn him, think ill of him; only her cretinous tongue, even now. But Aure truly believed she had been in the wrong for his flare up — the entirety of it — and the last thing she ever expected would be an apology from him.