Overture Downs oh, i think you're standing on my left foot

akavir, she mirrors, lips curling sweetly as she repeats the syllables in her mother's frostbitten accent. pleased to meet yah.
he does not seem to respond to her subtle cues, and this does not surprise her — but it does not deter her. call her smitten (or perhaps just a girl with daddy issues), but she wished to bury herself beneath the hard layers of muscle and grit; to know more about this akavir.
and he fulfills this wish in some way by indulging her in his woes — and they were, in fact, woes. a daughter, stricken with an illness the likes of which iris had only ever heard of in fables. her expression softens and her lips part into a soft 'o' of shock and, frankly, horror.
oh, god, she whispers, gaze suddenly falling to the floor. what the hell was one supposed to say in this situation? i wish i did. i mean, i could-- come to swiftcurrent? with you? take a look at her and... do what i can to help?