Deepwood Weald [m] lxix. love, hunt me down

Lótë chuckled at this point in his argument, relaxing slightly as the tension seemed to break. "It wasn't something I had planned to take part in this year either," the two-year admitted in a rueful murmur, grinning in good nature as her gaze fell with chagrin. But even Lótë couldn't argue that it would be nice to have young children at her hearth again. She knew Kukutux had wished she would be a mother with her again this year, but Lótë simply couldn't lie with Aiolos -- he was too much a brother to her. The solution stood in front of her, a man who was not her brother and was something like an ally. 

"I would stay with my family," Lótë murmured, gently rejecting this offer. Her home was in the mountains. His was the sea. "But the Bay is not so far. I will bring them," Lótë dipped her head. Their children would find homes in both. "You are welcome to come to the Forest and meet them when they are still young. I will be founding a village there with my older children."

With that seemingly settled, Lótë rose with a deep breath -- trying to shake any last nerves as she drew near to the sea dweller.