Hushed Willows Could've been the wine

vrána does not seem to be soothed by this. she seems soothed even less when the cat rumbles her name, feathers rustling over the curve of his shoulder; she is staring unblinkingly at virtute. caw opens his mouth in an attempt to resolve this conflict, an attempt which is probably fated to disaster, when the rustle of the undergrowth reveals the faerie queen stepping out of the willows, loinnir at her shoulder.

his jaws snap shut. caw lingers awkwardly in place as lumiya addresses virtute, waiting to be needed. it is not quite a patient silence, but it is content enough of one, especially when vrána calms on her perch, settling closer against his fur.

it does not last, though! caw is still looking raptly at the cat, happy enough to let lumiya do the speaking, up until virtute turns his head to look at him. naturally, caw completely misses the ruffle of his fur; he is aware of little other than the pale honey eyes on him.

this includes the second visitor, creeping towards their position.

“yes!” caw chirps agreeably. “she is faerie queen of seelie court.”