Arrow Lake There is a cat hovering in the men's bathroom at the radio station

Late afternoon light flooded her thicket today, and her own slumber, put up against that of Dragomir’s, was rather dreamless in its entirety. But she was roused, and did so with a languid, luxurious stretch of ivory; shaking a wispy ruff out to rid herself of spring debris. The alarm in question being a hiccupy pip from the baby boy at her belly.

Taking care to not disturb Isilmë, Aure curved herself towards the soft blot of mauvey ink that was her son — son, never believing for a moment she’d behold one of her own — and pressed the pink of her nose to the own blush that stained his gaping snout. ”M-ai trezit, micul meu explorator.” The tone was faux accusatory, gentle, but each word was a pressing kiss. Her personal love felt for Vercingetorix had only deepened through the delivery of their children; and she loved them, too, so much that verbal gesticulation was ever-futile. Was it possible for love to become more than it was?

She wriggled her nose against him, mouthed at the peach-felt pudge of his belly. What did her ‘Goo look for in his dreams? “You will rattle ze stars, prihană.” The little endearment was anything but insulting; he was a mark in her life, as Isi was, too. She cherished this little “blemish” of theirs — one that she had wanted since she’d first fallen for Verx, and one that Aurëwen would welcome for forever.