Ouroboros Spine old habits die screaming

Anger had gotten them both here. Vairë, her sister, and the gulf between them. Unsaid words rolling like snake coils in the dark. Here, she would define herself. Here, Vairë considered, was where she would determine the kind of moonwoman she would be. Gentle moonmother, or boarish warwoman.

Vairë watched her sister, letting the silence stretch between them. A thousand things she could say in that moment, and she said none of them.

What did you learn from this? Her voice was surprisingly gentle, a question she had poised many times to her own children. The lessons learned by children and by adults, and now Vairë posed a question once asked to her to her sister.