Arrow Lake KELĪTĪS! (chl.)

@Stigmata & @Mahler for reference!
Die rolls here.

Whatever the outcome in this unsparing claim, the greenseer would look back on this conquest without regret. She neither expected victory or loss — only to duel for that which she thought was right.

Imposing herself against Mahler was out of the question: he’d watched after her delivery, her children, and had tended to her anguish in the wake of half-sight. ...This was still a manner of imposing upon his person, she supposes, but the the doe hunted for the basilisk instead. I will take this with winter and rime.

Long, long legs reaching like moonsilk, Aurëwen strode. She’d never meant to stay in Diaspora for forever; still didn’t mean to. But for the time that she was here, for the time that she remained out of love for her ëarnil and their babes, who was to say that one such as her couldn’t guide mountainmade militants?

And if today turned unfavorable, then, in the seasons to come, she would seek to guide those of her own.

With each print nearer to her litigant, each knead of claws pressed into loam with the bitter reminiscence of the past fortnight — words of leave-taking, should the basilisks’ creed go unheeded. Lording words, vainglorious words; she stept by those speakers now, rubied crown and ivory tail held as an ensign of reigning intent. The indignant fury that’d been felt there now crept up from her marrow once more; molded her once-lovely guise into something inscrutable, magisterial. Frostbound.

So when she found @Stigmata, eyes alight with searing, frigid stellaflame, she only uttered a low, looming, “Manwa intyë,” in a wisping breath.

Eä, an ni apairë.

And then, moonmaid swept for mountainman, fangs gleaming starbright.