Broken Antler Fen fall like shooting stars

praimfaya does not spare aleks a glimpse though she is reassured by his presence and that he, as it thus far appears to her, has taken to his position as her setnes. instead, her frostbound silver gaze stays trained upon the stranger whose head lowers in submission speaking in a dialect that suggests common is not her native tongue. on this, praimfaya feels a small tug. she has always been bilingual but it is no secret that she prefers trig to common. the excuse, however, that the woman did not realize that roangeda's strengthening presence was in this fen, was a thin one to the worlida. perhaps, praimfaya thinks, there was something wrong with her nose. it was a cruel thought ( something blodreina would've thought ) an she banishes it. well, she draws on a breath. now you know.

i am praimfaya, the worlida here, though it is only a stepping stone to wanheda praimfaya says it with the same importance. this is my setnes aleks. she gestures to the dark man in introduction before refocusing upon the woman. you smell lone. an observation made with the vague assumption based upon what information she was able to glean from the woman's scent. are you in need of a place to call home?