Redsand Canyon lómëar

small weird post sry!

"Which would you like to learn?"  Language, or song?
Never before had an opportunity presented itself -- not that she would especially remember, at least, aside from when she had once taught her then-babes the natal tongue of her havenland. She might have felt flattered, and otherwise intrigued, or perhaps, presently, might feel the dull ache that should come into her breast at the thought of former motherhood. Andraste does not think that the bearing of the womb would ever again be hers to hold. Undeserving, no? And yet, looking upon this silver-limned, still-growing she-wolf, brimming with the unbridled curiosity that thrives within young souls, still there is a muted yearning for such, someday.

Perhaps, never again.
She does not know.

But Andraste keeps her countenance faux-mystical, myriad; looks upon her temporary student, settled before her, lent forth with consideration and eagerness. Whatever she wished to learn, the stricken would try to produce what she might.