Qeya River tu el aire que respiro yo

silvertongue reached her paws to wren now, to cup one of her wife's hands between her own. "akavir and i closed a history that came before you." stark. direct. soft. their time together had nothing to do with wren, and as such she did not involve her wife. there was an argument to be made that silvertongue did not understand how to exist within a marriage, but that was unsaid for there were no words to illustrate it. "you and akavir did the same." only acceptance, only a searching for the same. one hundred percent honest; and she resisted it. "he was upset to know i was leaving," silvertongue offered, an honest glistening pearl in her palm. "i do feel for him, wren. but i left him behind." and then they had come here, then their children had been born, and that was the end, ready to be an actual finality until akavir had shown up on their new doorstep.