Hushed Willows ready, set, let's go

Much and little could be used to descrive the fiery fae's mother. Aoibh was always determined to ascend in the ideals of life without the presence of a man at her side, she didn't need them. Her own mother, however, was somewhat the same. Maeve was weak in the heart and core. Perhaps it would be the fragments of their families who would be facing an excusrion next, and Aoibh would not be eager to greet them.

❝ Let's. You want to try hunting again . . . or would you rather promenade? ❞ she laughs as heartily as the sun and her counterpart as she circles her, like bubbles in foamy seas.