Ravensblood Forest Wer um die Göttin freit, suche in ihr nicht das Weib

ravensblood. she could not have given it a more fitting name herself, agreeing silently with the male. he moves up beside her, and auds move to flick in his direction even while her gaze remains steadily on the wood before them. he discloses something more, then, before lapsing into silence. a dream, an ambition, and she is intrigued enough by this lace to ask for more. 

"saints?" comes her echo, more breath than word. it is low enough to pass for a simple stirring of the wind, and yet she makes no effort to repeat herself.