Sawtooth Spire there's lots of middle ground between the kings and centipedes

phaedra was alive with the sound of music the unfolding realities of her new sense. mahler took a great pleasure in attempting to follow her muzzy bobbing gaze with his own. how unfamiliar and how fascinating the world must now be. and though he could not remember things from so young a time, he sensed if any could it would be phaedra.
the blessing of children was to see the magick in their growing-up, to see them whirlwind in frames while remaining still. and here he was, the ever-present memory of his first brood upon his heart even as the daughter of his second cooed up her their father.
he was overcome; no words emerged, but he growled a low note in return, broad nose seeking her soft downy belly and there lay tickles until phaedra knew laughter could pair with her new eyes.