Blacktail Deer Plateau & they will hang us in the louvre

“No. ...Well; over this precipice, I did away with ze desecrator who...” did this to me. My brother.
But Aurëwen shook her scarred head; a nevermind-that gesture of all that couldn’t come from her chords and entrust upon her tongue. “I had help, though. With him, and with another who hunted me. Both of those supporters have only... vanished.” Since those terrible times, the silver could only hope that both males fared well since then ...and her bloodborn kith who had gone from her, all the same. Suffice to say, hope had begun to feel a paltry figment, lately. 

“Ze ones who took my child — I have not heard a word of them from him. I do not know what they look like. But, I cannot ask that of him; not with what he has been through. ...Still, one eve, I ... dreamt to pursue them. Create a concoction,”  she sighed, a thin and listing breath, “force it down into their stomachs, if I ever could; fool’s errand that it’d be.”

The herbalist quieted, eventually letting herself settle into a sit; ears casting away as she studied the male before her. He was a stalwart, if she’d ever seen one, and she supposed he might have a name of some sort — instead:  “I do not know if vengeance would soothe ze fury within me, however, for my child. Perhaps nothing will shift, and I will hold this... tearless contempt, this incompetence for ze rest of my days. Perhaps I will never know.” And until Aurëwen was able to speak with the Constable and her Count, she was not able to put the gargoyle’s utterings to use; and felt there was too little that she could do. For her son... and herself.