Thunder Dome a place like magic

He spins further his tale of upbringing; and as with the bowels of the earth from which these Nereides sprung, so too had she never heard of such hierarchical systems. The consorting, the undertones of unworthiness which she then decides to respond to first, all in favor for what she believes might be his want:

"Were you to stay, should your Nereides not be found,"  Andraste murmurs,  "you would be permitted to bear children within this Court, as I would permit all,"  a quieted breath;
lets lashes fall heavy to cheek at the uneccessary sting; veiled; and prays that the unburnt might only see this as her peace of mind's indulgence in the tranquility of Cantatis. She cannot now allow herself to the weakness of thought; cannot let herself linger within the mem'ry of those pained pleas; the moon that yawned chasm. She has not heard the thrum of his soul—
cannot cannot blame, only simmer again with too-spent shame—
"You must promise to me that you will, of course, seek sure permission,"  tones a tease; trivial trillings to return them both to all realism; however she deigns to speak through a masque.

She passes reddened ivies; moss'd boughs; asks of Aiolos and yearns for the answer, if only to mute the musing agonies within.  "Who are ze Sea and ze Moon Mothers? Are they ze ... presiders of your worth?"