The Sunspire sweaty palms as i walk down this empty road

timelines? I don't know her
@Andraste

There was a level of desperation in Cupid’s stride. It was very odd of him. He was one to take his time, handle life's struggles as it came to him. Something had changed as of late. Thoughts of braving the winter months alone were far more daunting then before. Thus he seeked refuge somewhere, anywhere.

Indeed he was in a hurry but perhaps not as much as he first thought. If that were the case he would have joined the previous forest's ranks without much of a thought. But having to face the man that scarred him put a sour taste in his mouth. There was no way he could live with him and he certainly couldn't live under him. Their meeting had ended with the nomad turning away without another word.

And now here he was, far from the wilderness and perched upon Sunspire.  It was a gloomy yet peaceful scene. Sunlight couldn't pierce the heavy clouds. Gentle rainfall cooled the mountainside. A lonely man sat beneath a tree, eyes closed and breathing softly.

Pungency of bristling basil;
bundled into mouth between shorn lips; earthwarm and budding upon mute tongue. For plague, against some poision; the fairylight now wended her from the southerlying Lair, having believed her trek would bring some manner of wellness to her wintering faithfuls in these coming weeks. A restlessness, too, had roosted down within the wisp's bones; knew that the Court's declaration o'er their misted dwelling was so close at hand. It is what has drawn the featherlight tail above hocks and gaunt hips; brandishing with a delicate delight—

—and it is what makes her come to eventual halt, and set softsilver sights upon the grey and fell male, hunched beneath the shadow of Sunspire. Hearthold—!
—it is not him—
—but as the stricken is not one, now, to leave another ailing and behind, she hushes the hesitancy tittering away within breast and instead trills to the dingy wanderer; basil or no, she means to be heard.

she knows that scent—
it is the woman who had borne her home the first time, who had hunted alongside her for treasures in the sand. memory flickers and fades and she's hunting after the woman, somewhat abashed at this odd repetition of events past. she is older now, and by all accounts ought too to be wiser. 

she moves at a clip, slowed only by the limp in her left hind, wanting for a familiar face. here is a brief flutter of joy when the woman calls out, a brief smile. she echoes the sound, faint as it is, and beelines toward it. it is only when she is within wight of the woman's rear that she realizes Aure's attention is not on her, but a stranger. maw parts in a soft 'o', and she freezes there, unwilling to interrupt and yet just as much so unwilling to depart.

Her footfalls fell in tune with rainfall. She moves silently, her call surely should have made him jump. But plants could never go undetected by an herbalists nose. The bundle's aroma wafted towards him, made all the more stronger by the rain. His eyes flutter open to see a ghost upon this lonely mountain.

Cupid parted his lips, but they snapped shut as soon as he hears someone else approach. She came running and for a moment he wonders if she will collide into one of them. As soon as she sees him however she halts.

Crimson falls upon one form, then the other and his heart sinks beneath his ribs. Surely they must be related? A mother and a daughter braving the world together. It's an all too familiar story, one he forces upon the pair for now. The herbs that are held between teeth have a much more depressing meaning now.

Hey. Everything falls silent after that. Cupid cleared his throat before he continued, That your kid?

tiny post oop

Solemn, this male is;
and against his inquiry, all that is writ upon marred features is nothing short of bewilderment; surely the only daughter she had ever birthed would not have found her, much less follow her, with what the hydra's three heads had hissed into her own. “Nay—”
( she does not deserve them; hush, hush )
—but the guise of the roseling from moons past is welcomed all the same, and so it is that the starlit turns to said girl whilst surrendering a smile; unbidden, charmed into the rarity of it.  "But we have tread together, have we not?"

Canted rubied brow back to the first drifter, the dark of it arching and imploring; perhaps asking of the both of them, really:  "Where-ever might you have wandered from, if I might ask?"

the woman is every bit as ethereal as she remembers. she waits a moment too long to answer the sylph's question, and when she does, it's with an abrupt, "yeah." she turns her attention back to the stranger, and clem is faced with a conundrum. 

should she leave? she does not know the male, and the woman only barely; perhaps they want privacy? but aure had only just addressed her, and certainly it would be rude to leave, without so much as a goodbye? she really wanted the woman's help, but was it petulant of her to ask? something like panic crosses her gaze, and she wavers visibly atop stilted limbs. and then, at a loss, she sinks onto her haunches, examining the snow at her paws with intense scrutiny.

I see. Relief untangled the barbs round his throat. Two souls saved from a familiar story of tragic fate, something to celebrate over. Perhaps not. Maybe there was another story with a depressing end just waiting for them around the corner. Nothing good could stay in this world, it was always ripped away. Maybe that good was ripped away from them and he just couldn't see it.

From the south, was his brief answer. Far far away from fools that wronged him. He may never step foot there again. And what about you? Where'd you come from?

"I once hailed from ze far reaches of an uncharted norths, within ze hold of my mother, my father. And, now, 'ere,"  the silver gestured, to the swath of autumnal vale glimmering just over the rises which this solemn strider now hunkered amongst.  "I seek to give a resting place of my own, for those who seek to heal their hurts ... and to conquer all that has since evaded them."  Starkindling eyes alight up the shrouded male, to the roseling, and back once more.  "If you should need to take time for yourselves, I am glad to invite you to live amongst those within my realm."  For however long these two needed, of course; and should they choose in time to stay, then the aspiring helm had no qualms with it.