Arrow Lake befragung

backdated for whenever fits! small PP to get things going <3

@Aurëwenn's blood had been a reek upon the wind announcing her return before he ever caught sight of her. the children remained behind, and it occurred belatedly to mahler that the motherdove's frequent amblings beyond their border was a symptom of the dreadful sadness that often befalls mothers in the months that follow childbirth.
he was attendant when her form came into view, armed with his doktor's satchel of herbs; a frown laced his muzzle but he remained silent until they were near one another, and he could see the full breadth of her injury. "aurëven," the gargoyle breathed softly, a pitying tenderness to his tone. "let me look."

<3 would be right after eve gets her to diaspora, so 25th!
note to myself: vonn departs later that evening

No! Don’t look at me! was what she wanted to retaliate with. Please don’t look at me. As before, her breath came thin in her breast; wisped its way through the crevices of her fangs, which remained tucked away behind trembling lips. But she held herself steady, lungs bated, and allowed Mahler to sidle near.

Ever since Evergreen’d settled her back into the mountainous arms of Diaspora, the silver’s jaw had wound shut, and she wished nothing more than to fade into the deep, shifting dark where all the color of the world had once flowed in. The remaining argent set into the cradle of her skull now peered dubiously at the doktor, the midwife; whichever he was  at the present.

All at once, she was quivery, skittish; when she felt the huff of his study upon her face, in the make of his understanding tone, the salt of her grief nearly overwhelmed her once more. ”S’just an eye,” Aure gurgled, thickly, stupidly. But she was so exhausted of crying, of tears — felt such, knew such, and didn’t wish to assuage Mahler with them, as Blodreina and Lily had been. “Th-there are worse things to lose.”

she downplayed her injury as he had thought she would, but mahler answered in no way, peering grimly at the encrusted socket with its ring of gore.
teeth, he supposed, and a pity — whatever had scarred the silverchased she-wolf’s visage in the past had not seen fit to damage her eyes. but now here they were, and she with no respite from the maladies that had continued to befall her.
”it vill need to be rinsed,” mahler told the motherdove softly, moving to her sighted side that he might escort her back into the packlands, and to the little pool of water wherein he washed certain herbs.
unless aurëwen wished to tell him of what misfortune had befallen her when she was away from home, the gargoyle would not press, lending her the quiet warmth of his presence instead.

Rinsed. God, she would’ve rathered her eye rinsed for a century than face her oppressor once more — or, perhaps, it was the other way around? Unable to make any sensible sense of her eddying, waning thoughts, Aurëwen merely rose once Mahler came alongside her, and kept quietly to that enshrouded shoulder.

Her one presence must’ve been some frail, flitting thing on their little adventure. When they reached the intended area, the herbalist openly shied — dug her claws in, and held back for a few heartbeats. Why did water need to be such a reoccurring, elusive, evident theme in her breathless life?

Whether coaxed or no, she looked to Mahler in enquiry; how, exactly, was an eye rinsed? Despite how shivered she was and would be, there still remained a little nugget of inquisitiveness — like a pupil who continued to learn, regardless of circumstance. Of course, Aure might’ve not been aware of it, but, all the same... her ears flickered back, hesitant, uncertain.

Mahler was more than willing to show her, though, and the time they spent together was a balm to the silver’s distress and reinforced despondency. He tended to her, and once what of her eye could be salvaged and mended, left her to inconsistent, endless slumbers.