Ravensblood Forest father of the year

gonna slap this here instead if that’s ok? (just 1 post from me)

For all her faults and her fierce foolishness this season, Aurëwen was undeniably tireless.

Perhaps he’d taken the night with him, and had tucked himself away in the corner of this bleeding world somewhere; and so she’d busied herself seeing to Isilmë and to the corruption in Verx’s wounds, and whatever else she could stave her own fidgeting. Her frenetics has eased some, but, then again, she was a mother; so they might never, as next light found her toeing the liminal edges of the wearing trails of Dragomir’s scent.

He’d asked to be alone, hadn’t he? And she knew better than to dare follow on yet another olive branch that’s been proffered towards her ...and yet, with a gentle enquiry of “Balaur?” made sifting and sweet on the faint summer winds, the herbalist strode off with silken, reaching, fleet-pawed strides. She was scarce able enough to spare a short call for @Sanguinus, who hadn’t yet met her beloved, but—

There was a mossen log, bedecked in fungi galore and draped of her son’s scent; and she sniffed, and smelt, and breathed in in in, all the way until she reached a gloamed glen which seemed to be where her little dragon had roosted last.

Here, though, was the most curious concoction of smells — others — and through the incremental staccato of her heart, of Verx’s cries, she knew something was amiss. The silver could only look towards him, waxen face tinged with a wondering sort of dread. All she could do was stand there, shivering so badly that she dared not to step about, lest she fall of her own accord. 

Where has he flown?