The Sunspire sweaty palms as i walk down this empty road

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Solemn, this male is;
and against his inquiry, all that is writ upon marred features is nothing short of bewilderment; surely the only daughter she had ever birthed would not have found her, much less follow her, with what the hydra's three heads had hissed into her own. “Nay—”
( she does not deserve them; hush, hush )
—but the guise of the roseling from moons past is welcomed all the same, and so it is that the starlit turns to said girl whilst surrendering a smile; unbidden, charmed into the rarity of it.  "But we have tread together, have we not?"

Canted rubied brow back to the first drifter, the dark of it arching and imploring; perhaps asking of the both of them, really:  "Where-ever might you have wandered from, if I might ask?"