Arrow Lake meant to be a mother

Brows quirked in a rise at the iron-clad’s quip, and the dramatics, but kept quiet until Stigmata turned his regards to her once more. She met his eyes just as evenly as when they’d first met, one silver eyebrow crescenting higher than the other at his appraisal of her aversion to rabbit.  ( A story for another time, maybe. )

”I could,” came the absent trill, then a prolonged pause, and a start of mock-surprise, a bit of impish gleam, ”Would you like to know? Well...” Aurëwen looked out to her children, gaze ever-soft. ”Aside from Liri, it seems there are five others of her supposed Nauthiz. Less, perhaps, even though the scents seem sturdy enough.”

The optio wouldn’t give her express opinion unless asked, but she turned to Stigmata all the same, ”There is a likelihood that Liri intends to make ze Vale a peacekeeper’s place; as Elysium is, I think. Usually, I admire such aspirations, but...” Eyes listed to the rabbit, remembering Eastwood’s words, ”But, if I were Liri, I would use ze Vale to my advantage. I am no, ah, military-lady, and yet even I know that it is not becoming to become comfortable for too long.”

”She made it seem as if they were thriving. And to scent so little...” Eventually, a shiver drew her from her reverie, and she hesitantly set to nibbling at the hare Stigmata’d gifted to her, patient when it came for another to retaliate with their own thoughts.