Arrow Lake she's a junkyard angel and she always gives me bread

puts my grandma glasses on so i can read my timeline oof

After nursing, she’d introduced her children to new scents earlier that morning — chamomile, lavender, and such other properties that weren’t too overwhelming to start with — and since had spent the current hour on a little hike. ...Well, she meant to return to the thicket to snooze the day away, but then the call from the borders arrowed for the claim. With Vonnaruil in her stead at the thicket  ( and loathe as she was to be kept from Drago and Isi any longer )  Aurëwen rerouted her course from the foothills at once.

There’d been many passerby along Diaspora’s perimeters as of late, so the soon-to-be optio was more than readied to receive possible initiates. ...Eventually, though, the scents of Elysium petered from where an audience awaited, and the pearling eyes alit upon — ”Olive!” Aure wasn’t quite a guardian, or warriorsome maiden as some believed, but hopefully the silver’s presence would be welcomed regardless.

Her midwife was laden, heavily so, with her own bairns; and though Aurëwen wasn’t familiar with the... wait, no, she was! A triple-take brought agleam argent gaze onto Cortez, and all she could truly lend was, ”... and ze, ahm, storyteller? From ze... festivaling?” From the gauzy vestiges of memory, she now recalled the male’s face — despite having only had a few glimpses of him  ( in the times she’d wandered to hear his craft. )  ”I am Aurëwen, ah, Aure, if you would like.”

Some bashful hesitancy overcame her, and the once-skayona was unsure of who to address first. Instead, she tried a more open inquiry, sculpted head tipping modestly at the cache theyd toted along: ”May I ask what you have brought?” Were these some sort of charms? Wards, as from the mythic cradling-fables once crooned to little Rhaesuians? But Aurëwen wouldn’t assume, yet, and instead looked at the pair with full-moon, wondering eyes.