Moonspear oathkeeper

To learn the names of her pupils was a lesson in itself; one she did not take for granted, and looked each youngster in the eye for.  “So far, you are on ze right path. A weakness is a fault,”  gaze flitting from Atlas,  “faults that may not last,”  to Antares,  “or ones that simply cannot be improved upon,”  to Vega, “sometimes, even, ones that have yet to be discovered,” until finally resting upon the quiet Osiris — far from minding it. When words were not to be had, thoughts would have their own speculation.

“However,”  she drawled gently,  “even your own weaknesses can be applied for a more favorable outcome. As Atlas has pointed out, I am of a much smaller figure,”  a pale cant of acknowledgement to the murky boy,  “and wolves with a stature akin to mine must strategize with their mind, rather than might. Perhaps, for some thought, your mother is my enemy; perhaps she uses her brawn to press me back; perhaps I will allow her to believe that she has overwhelmed me. Perhaps my half-sight will fail me, and her mark will be true; perhaps I would like for her to think that I have never adjusted to this mishap, and that is why I stumble about. And perhaps still, an opportune moment will present itself in my favor.”

“Of course, to see ze advice in action might be more ... engaging,”  scarred brows crescent askance in Hydra’s direction,  “if Her Majesty would like to volunteer?”

Though Aurëwen did not smile  (yet), her flowered chords weren’t without a shadow of mirth.