Arrow Lake you're my latest, my greatest inspiration

Taut, ivory muscles relaxed, easing with her own faint sigh as the wanderer assured her the situation hadn’t become as misunderstood as Aure had believed. She took the time to call out for @Mahler, then, the herald made wisping and airy on the spring winds. Stigmata might be sure to come, if the basilisk wasn’t too harried; but, as commander of his claim, it was good that her deliverer could act in his stead.

For all of her summons, the silver felt she should repay her fellow herbalist for all the pains he’d taken as of late. Newcomers had since flown to the spires like an insatiable river, bedecked in colors of the world. With six growing bellies — and minds — to feed, the damengeist felt no will or reason to complain.

In her Rhaesuial, attendants had flocked the twins’ circle of early childhood, and there had been no letting up. Full to bursting with allies, merrymakers, jesters, even the ill-wishers... they had all filled those bleary parts of her whelphood to carve and ready her for the uncharted.  ( Well, she’d rather be flayed and breathing than ever let wrong-doers think of her children. )

When Aure refocused upon the she-wolf before her, a name was given; two, it seems. Although the alternative of Dulce was given, the silver tried  ( and stumbled )  over the original, “Abeja,” — scrunched her nose in concentration. It must be this language that she knew her brother to be so particular to.

So she intoned with that deeper, foreign timbre of her own, “Ah-beh-ha. Abeja, yes? Of course, Dulce is sweet, too.” She preened kindly at Dulce, and only giggled at the obviousness of, duh, honey is sweet, when she recognized it a few heartbeats later. ”I am Aurëwen— ah, Aure, if you’d prefer.”