Altar of Twilight Sipping on fire

oOF hope this Tired Post is decent <3

The silver listened again to that which the traveler had to say;
a mother  (not unlike her own, it seems)  who made her peace with the earth, as opposed to kith who favored stars, sense, and stories.  “My own dam found her solace with ze earth; ours was a haven, in a sense, of farseers and greenseers. I suppose that, well ...”  a part of my struck-out soul wishes to remake such.

But, finally, a pale hint of a simper tugged at the stricken’s torn lips:
“Perhaps you might begin a story of your own, with mine and I,”  giving a leisurely heft of a thin, marred shoulder,  “and perhaps, you might begin one when you wake in ze morrow. After all, unexpected journeys tend to be ze most thrilling sort, no?”  There was a patience in the glimmering half-sight as she came to halt by the argent’s side; a consideration lulling through the unassuming night.

“Our numbers are few, for now, but we have come together with ze intentions of dispensing our knowledge and practices to those who seek it.”  Of course, it was the wanderess’ choice alone—  “Lest you decide else, we are making a claim upon ze weald, north-like, near ze seas.”  A thrum of quiet.

Then:  “I ... fail again to introduce myself. I am Andraste.”