Firefly Glen because you feel like a heartbeat

Though his sudden appearance had caused the pale wyvern alarm, it was just as rapidly dispelled (save for the lingering, heavy thud of her heart) for the male didn't appear to be a threat. 

In his own surprise, he turned his countenance fully towards and allowed the wintry waif to drink in the ruins of his features fully. Half crumbled, earth split asunder: the pit of his mouth and crater of his eye blackened with some tragedy. 

Mayhaps it was queer of the midwife but she held no qualms about the sythr's appearance. Quite the opposite; the fawn felt some self-conscious piece of her settle, as if at ease within the scarred man's presence. The refugee knew only to well the probing, roaming eyes - silently rubbernecking at the horror carved upon one's flesh, uncontrollably gawking in dark wonder. 

Her paw drifted back to the earth, small stature shifting to a calm stance. 

"Zat's alrigh'," the botanist lilted softly in response of his apologies, lips curving with reassurance and spine with a slight, instinctive bow. 

"Blessed day, Memory," she greeted him in turn, straightening as the gentle murmur fell from her lips. "Zey name me, Awenfen." Ghostly eyes blinked solemnly as this familiar, literal line trailed after. 

"Fergive me fer askin' if it is offensive to ye..." the broken mother edged nervously, shifting daintily on uneasy paws. "..but does it 'urt?" 

Awen's ivory muzzle tipped faintly towards his ravaged face, concern evident in her own. "Maybe I could 'elp?"