Sawtooth Spire And I bet right now you're probably thinking that

since thade went yeet, parents can close this up!

she didn't turn to see how the azure shard of her gaze had bit mahler, nor did she intend its occurrence; not consciously. a constellation of sorrow eclipsed the pretense she'd put on, and the deathlessness of her pain was an aching tattoo on her heart, always reminding her when it thrummed against her chest. he may not have known what she had been told, but the knowledge had tormented her since, and there was no chrism to chase out the demons or doktor in the world who could dress the bleeding wound.
once thade dropped his commemorative to reassure the rest of them, phaedra's eyes glimpsed the plaything with a wily shift of her eyes, ignoring the storm-wracked weather overhead from mother as astraeus was put in order. 
phaedra slunk past her papa, demonstrably avoiding his gaze as she passed, and jumped on thade's stick, collecting it in her mouth and engaging him in a ludic game of keep-away until mother called her fledglings into some manner of orderliness.
phaedra "let" thade redeem his stick (he rudely snatched it back from her, what of it), and moved towards the front of the procession to walk with her mother, catching astraeus' rather infra dig remark but feigned ignorance, affectless in her countenance as she moseyed on by (she didn't even know what a witch was ... perhaps he and thade had made their own boy-clubhouse-no-girls-allowed conlang to which she was not privy, on account of the no-girls rule).
phaedra would never understand what made him so surly, but she'd learned not to indulge his unstable hissy fits. disinterest made co-existing much easier.
as she drew up to wylla, she brushed up against her leg and didn't look back towards home, lest she start to openly mourn their departure. indifference. affectless. she gathered all of stag's dandelions back into her mouth and waited to break camp with a listlessness outlining her silhouette.