Arrow Lake and my words are forever, my blanket, my shiver

Him threading from her embrace could only mean he was still angry with her, yes? A lowing of protest stumbled after not-Verx’s retreat, and it had her wilting wilting wilting to moss and stone. So by the time that Ingram inquired of her welfare, the silver had situated herself upon her back and was gazing up at him with heavy, dozy, pearly eyes. ”Musch better, now that youuu are here,” she lilted, and promptly pawed up at the dark, looming figure. The kneading was flimsy, rabbit-soft, and much too clumsy to really touch him.

The adamant set in her jaw only refragmented, and with a pout of petulance, Aurëwen chose this moment to list onto her other side, and soon found her nose and lips smushed up against— ”Oh, you should not have! ...Wh...whassit, Berx?” Although she hadn’t an inkling of what this catch was, and though her slurring was endless, her eyes still crescented with delight. ”Ce mi-ai luat?” she begged to know, before her words faded into another warbling, teary yawn.

The slumberous impression that Verx Verx Verx was with her, and her eyes were still doting as she looked to the obsidian male from over a shoulder. Perhaps this visit had no purpose, other than to provide dinner for her and their children — still, though. He was here, and she’d missed him by her, so she lie upon her other side again; rubbed one scarred cheek into lichens as she dared to sleepily, impishly nibble at one of Ingram’s toes.