Sunbeam Lair ❝elyë lantanë melmessë sonen,❞

Shorn lips pursed; how she readied to chide him for such a brusque aversion! And yet she urged some settlement into the ivory of her that had been previously stressing; too-thin ears now flickering forth to hear that which he now wished to enquire after.  Young ones—
"I see no reason in depriving ze little lives of ze nourishment they need. Of course, too, we will share ze greater of ze kills with your own."  A pale cant of marred muzzle,  "But, no: we do not have young refugees to feed at ze present. ... Perhaps, if those looking for a place to whelp arrive upon our premises."  Not at all unlike how she  —  no, Aurëwen! —  had been, once upon a time.

Halfsight alights upon the standard that the golem presents with the dishevelment of his ruff; eyes having gone a smidgen listless in their treading of thought.  "It is a matter of trust, earned through our lands' loyalties to another, and yet, perhaps ..."  shorn lips a bit heavied; argents misted, as she soon lost herself within wishful inklings once more:  "Perhaps, should any Diasporan young wish to further their knowledge of this world, our Court would be open to such teachings."

—and perhaps too it was very much to ask! Formalities be damned; lessons of leadership once lost now stung those eyes with silliness; inexperience. It must be some invasive assumption upon Diaspora's intentions; though there might be no reason to balk before he who had held faith in her very yearning for aforementioned Court, she damned what-ever within her nerves made her frenzy so.

"General. Forgive my ... I do not mean to be so forward, so soon."  So versed did she believe him to be; and she, aquiver with longing to take flight!  "This sharing of quarry; it will be a communal gathering, yes?"  But, rooted; she must remain rooted— where had that uprightness of her in that Weald, on that Vale-ridge, gone to?—