Northstar Vale itiktuk ❊

Sculpted;
only the lines of her gaunt skeleton held fast, this day. The torments of her body had relaxed themselves into hard mold of her lover's hold; refiguring and reforming from cold wax into a porcelain melt down the meridian of her figure. So when the faithful fowl draped herself all dreary desperation, the fée fair lapsed for a heartbeat at such a display before her. She knew not of her argent cousin's plight, nor that of Kukutux  ('til now, of course), too entwined within all that had been her own trappings. Significantly removed from the tidings which the duck so lamented, as it were; a happening that she could not have ever fathomed unto herself. But! it did not mean she did not feel compassion, concern  —

“Our Court will be aflourish with whelps, of course,”  the fairylight wisped slow, searching; her mind slumping from the sweet morning hours to squint blearily over this afternoon’s pleas of I am lonelys and husband and that clicking language. Her comprehension was rheumy, at best, for now. Still ...  “Unless, you have become promised to another, ‘ere?”