Whitefish River We are receiving numerous reports that books have stopped working

tiny post for now. brain is bleh

When their ailing son cried out for the first time in what felt like eons, Aurëwen abandoned absolutely everything to skip through the riverlands like an erratic star;
chords remained hoarse, just about useless, until she was able to rush through the wounding caves and see her broken boy, ear-splitting, bleary-eyed wails clawing up from his own deadened throat.

Near as she dared did she hover, whispering, eyes bright and whetted, “Méne, Anarinya, mennen sís.”

At present, it didn’t matter that he was enduring episodes that had been so achingly close to her own— she could reflect on these black parallels later. “He must be removed from ze dark,” came her voice, clear and bright and bell-like, eliciting for some godsdmaned healer from whatever depths they toiled away in now to come and help! “I am not made to carry others, I need—“
In these moments, who she truly needed to call for was Vercingetorix; but her scattered thoughts could only surmise to Someone strong.