Dragoncrest Cliffs ❝i am❞ is set, delicate and detailed as an insect in amber to each child

No, the gona was wrong. It showed in the narrowing of the skayona’s brow, the bewildered blink; she hadn’t meant blood status at all, but rather, the status of where the children were born into. Perhaps Aure’d been thinking along the lines of some sort of ancestry, but had stumbled right into another lesson. Hers would be half-parts outsider, half-parts born of one who’d been accepted by the geda; that was what she’d meant. That when she delivered, the children would be acknowledged from having come from a warrior of their own, despite her not.

Her jaw fluttered, lips parted to correct herself, but Blodreina forged ahead. The more barbed her words, the more Aure felt herself bristle, and found it ever difficult to sit through this. Sit through someone who thought she wanted her bairns to have some sort of “free pass”, as if she were some idiot of a mother-to-be— her argent gaze flared silver, and she could feel the beginnings of indignation dance along her muzzle.

Aure never expected for everyone to be taken by elation when they heard her news, and this— no, she wanted to make it crystal-clear that she knew there were no “free passes” through life— And then she stopped listening, mind going numb, as I do have a problem with your children translated to You should’ve proved the worth you never had before bedding one of our own you peasant.

What she heard was that she was a stupid girl who knew nothing, u know nuthin jon snuh who stared at her stupid stars and would continue to know nothing, even as she spread her legs for a world she knew nothing of, but brought children into it all the same. That was how Aure heard it; how the words of reality staggered into the surreal labyrinth of her mind; even as she wanted these children more than anything, her long-kept depression began to sliver through crevices.

All of Lily’s own whisperings faded, as Aure faded, as the now-tatters of whatever self-confidence she’d written up for herself faded, too. And then her own, lethargic loathing came, riveling at the tender, hopeful parts of her. Porcelain skin drew taut over stark bones, like parchment snagging to the ripping point on some edge; the red of her was as dark as dried wax, as if the scars left behind were the traces of his false seal. She wasn’t enough; hadn’t been enough for the cliffs and those there, just as she’d known.

Either — she could sit here, sniveling and quite near the verge of tears... or she could forgive Blodreina for this not-lesson with as much thinning graciousness as she could. It took everything within her to keep from simpering, "Blodreina, bless your heart. If it weren't for the fact that you are at its own pecking order, then perhaps you'd have whelped long before I, no?" And she really tried. Really, she did; Aure wanted so much to delve into that hateful, frostful, abysmal recess of herself— wanted to hurt Blodreina with her words, too; wanted her to hurt for practically shitting on her unborn. It would be so effortless, too, in sneering so low if only to rise to her own defense.

But then, in the end, she concluded that if there was anyone who was going to shit on her, it was going to be herself alone. As much as she wanted to kneel to new lows... she could not. Could not, even as she stood here and allowed Blodreina to insult her so thoroughly.

Aure was only able to restrain herself, with such a rift torn through her, so her response ended up as an icy hiss: ”Forgive me, if I’ve come off with saintly airs by wanting share such news with you; my only intention was to give you some semblence of faith, regardless of your impression of me. It is a time for grief, however. I know now how mistaken I was. But you should know that light, no matter where it comes from, should be welcome.” but her eyes were dead and indolent, a frozen crease to her snout as she willed herself to tether her fury. Blodreina didn’t deserve it — and yet, she did, didn’t she? So was Aure, an outsider at the bottom of this dreamt-of pecking order, a fool or a faith by veiling what anger she had from the gona?

Since she could first wobble, Aure couldn’t ever make up her mind with everything she felt, and that was truer now than it’d ever been. She was euphoric, and then concerned, and now whatever boldness she’d made for herself now writhed under her warring, inscrutable insecurities. But she knew what she could do — who else she knew would take more heart to her news than the Blood Queen before her. 

The skayona drew away from the fitful she-wolf, forcing her eyes to lighten once more, and said nothing else as she made her way Home. It was over a crude, cold shoulder that she lowed, ”Thank you for your many lessons, Blodreina. I will never forget them.”