Arrow Lake — disappearances, after all, have explanations. usually.

A faint, insolent nick curled Vonn’s lips at the sight of the basilisk, but for all of the coy amusement, he followed his sister’s suite. Oh, loyalty — his would not be ill-placed, here, and for a heartbeat Vonn thought himself a fool to have ever made away from Stigmata in the first place. The hood of his dark lashes drew lazy, languishing over his own eyes. But they pranced away, congealed from melted silver to tempered sterling as Aurëwen addressed Mahler: ”Those who sought to further harm us will not follow, I assure you. They still crow at their own claim — outnumbering us, as it were. I can see no reason for them to follow this entire way.” Her scarred face, drawn like steel, only whet itself further at the verbal myriads.

It was out of thought and, of course, deference which her pale eyes flickered from Stigmata’s. It gave her the chance to pause, to say ”Another and I are with child,” to nod to Blodreina, and wait for any input from those behind her; their thoughts were appreciated, cherished to her. So far, Blodreina, at least, had come forth with what hadn’t crossed Aure’s mind: trades. If remarks from her voyagers were given, she listened with consideration, but would need to continue herself at some point.

”As for my own practice, I am a herbalist. A healer. Weeks prior to our departure, I had been fortifying my stores in hopes of beginning an apothecary of my own.” With Rusalka’s final instigation, she had felt her hard work in gathering those reserves had gone to waste. ”I am, however, familiar with enough flora along ze Spires. As you are nomadic, foraging will not be a trouble for me.” Her voice was edged in some misery at this, despite Mahler’s congeniality; but there was no pride, either. Only the knowledge that she was well at mending, finding, and could speak with some grit.

How her stores had been depleted, though — she lifted her eyes to Mahler’s at that — had not been in vain. Always humble to the point of shyness, Aurëwen would never admit to her workings on Vercingetorix; she had always credited Dacio or Reina for their immense help, for that was just as true. It wasn’t in her to boast of Verx’s near-death as she’d boasted of the heavens to Stigmata, once upon a night. It was her beloved’s choice to tell of such a personal trial.

But she felt this craft seemed much more immediate to represent, and so she kept all of her star-gazing hushed in the meantime. Vonnaruil, though, felt he should put his own words out there once more, humming, ”I roam, as you well know, but have quite liked guarding, lately. Should you need a sentinel or scout, my services are yours.”