Cerulean Cape jello mold

Having helped to rear a great many naughty Corten children, Moorhen had a near preternatural ability to sense a lie when she heard one. She peered suspiciously at the stranger, and settled a heavy paw on the precious stick. It creaked ominously under her weight.

The male, however, was stepping back, apparently cowed, and spouting more nonsense that she struggled to understand. My — beef, she repeated, glancing uncertainly down at what was clearly a stick. But he commented on her appearance, next, and a few cascading realizations finally clicked into place. Oh, she said, looking upon the gilded stranger with new eyes — kinder, more interested eyes, perhaps. It was so strange to come across more and more of her relations, here — and so strange that they were so very young, even if she knew this was the way of things.

The erne settled, lowering herself to her haunches and elbows to lie with her paws folded over the branch. I am like my father, she explained, her voice almost gentle in her lilting accent. Coelacanth had said as much to her, once — that she bore a resemblance to the man that, while perhaps not striking, was certainly remarkable. Skellige Cairn, she added, in case the young man had not yet put two and two together.