Ouroboros Spine paniktak

The warmth in her face shifted slightly as Wilwarin smiled again, finding Amil amusing for her comment about quiet moments. It had been disorienting to listen to the births, and frightening afterwards as the children cried. She wondered briefly if the newborns found more comfort in the chaos than the quiet, or if they were aware at all.

With the talk of totems, Wilwarin grew concerned. She did not like the idea of such things - two totems fighting betwixt themselves - and did not understand the deeper meaning that Lótë held with her words. What do you think of this? It felt like a loaded question.

I... I like them, the little ones. There are so many of them now. I think I would like to be the big sister. As she mouthed these things she had a furrowed upon her face, a look far too serious for her gaunt cheeks that briefly aged Wilwarin beyond her days.

She was intrigued by the idea but also afraid, knowing now that there was a painful sacrifice to be made, so that they could be born. Kukutux had endured it for her little ones, and presumably so had Shikoba for her son. It was not something Wilwarin could accept at her age, and she worried.