Wapun Meadow i. a vagrant you shall become

idk where this even came from oml

The understanding from someone who actually understood her own position proved to be invaluable — and immensely comforting. At once, Aure felt the need to move a tad closer; to lean in, in all of her modest enquiry. For the first time since the incident, there was no shame or loathing or humiliation within her figure and words.

”Do you still forget others are near?” The herbalist’s mind flit into her most recent errors: an endless series of confusing one remedy for another, bumping into packmates, narrowly missing Isilmë’s tail, falling into dragostea... “Some alphess I’ve come to be. Pah.” And not even in the way she’d wished for. ”I do not mean to mope, I...” A solemn sigh gusted from weary lungs, and the silver sat herself down with a frustrated little ‘plomp.’

”I wake up, I try to adjust. Only, I do not know how. I do not know how to adapt this into scrap-sessions — sparring, I mean — which has never been my strong suit, anyways. If I can be fleeter than my enemy, then... then...” Then, what? She didn’t know. But what she did know was that, “I tire of others coming to my rescue, always. I...” A faint, vulnerable, gloomy gulp, “I do not want to be a burden to others. I want to owe debts to nobody other than myself — and to those who would tutor me.”

Finally, Aure steadied a burning-cold eye on the nightclad before her. ...She used to think that she’d been fearless when she first lost Vonnaruil— but, no, she’d been nothing but brimming with it. Neither had it been her in Drageda, or even her Diaspora. It could’ve been when she’d delivered her sun-and-stars to her night-of-life — and perhaps it had only blossomed in this moment.

But the flame wasn’t for Rhælla, and the more resolved Aurëwen became, the more she seemed to curl in on herself. As if she couldn’t believe what she was saying: that she didn’t wish to fear anymore.