Arrow Lake I come bearing late gifts

She felt the heaviness in herself that could be heard in Kazimir’s sigh; spring seemed to be moving slowly, other than the storms that seemed to transfigure the terrain around Diaspora. Hearing the lift in the tessarius’ voice as she doted on Drago, though, seemed to summon the lad; and as he wriggled in place, Aure fondly mused, “I am glad to see ze two of you are so well-met.”

With that, she gave permission with a nod, and balaur didn’t miss a beat in going for the foxtail — but not before he expressed his gratitude. Aurëwen hummed approvingly, and was turning her attention to call Isilmë from their thicket when she heard it: how are you? She paused in place, lips parted, wordless. After counsel given by Mahler, even Reina — “I don’t know.” They only care, Aure would tell herself, but she still came to dread the concern that was forthcoming.

So, warily, she turned about to face Kazimir once more. “I do what I can, and I hope I am doing it well,” bringing inscrutable, but certainly loving, eyes to Drago; gnawing away at that red tail. “I hope too much time isn’t missed with them. It... I wanted us to share each moment of their life together.” Despite how things had been left so sour, so unsettled before that departure. All Aure could do now was pray he was well — wherever he was, for whatever reason, and be their ‘father’ in his stead.