Hideaway Strath you are, and always have been, a revolution

Her eyes roamed over Aerin's wounds as she spoke. It seemed she was here to see Simmik specifically. It was a nice change from her usual interactions with the pack. She was, for all intents and purposes, quite the outcast here. Aside from a very small few, most of the other Saints wanted to fight with her rather than talk. Admittedly, it was partly her fault; she had stoked the flames with Whrist and Nyra, but she needed to be seen as someone who wouldn't just give her loyalty and respect for no reason. Plus, she maintained that they were just jealous of her relationship to the Grandmaster. Jealousy was a waste of time and energy in her opinion. It wasn't like he couldn't take them as lovers. They had a deep bond—had known each other for a long time, and she saw him like no one else did. Just like he saw here. That was why she was his wife and the one carrying his children. They needed to get over their childish emotions and try to make the pack more cohesive. They wouldn't take the advice from her, though. She and Ky had much to discuss before the children were born.

No, you didn't disturb me, Simmik assured the other woman. She seemed nervous and unsure, and she knew it was most likely due to their first interaction. I was already awake. Plus she didn't mind the company. My wounds are fine. Healing well it seems. I'm just a little sore... she drifted off a moment. And very tired lately. Always nauseous too it seems. She hadn't been able to find much she could really keep down, not that she was ever really very hungry anyway with her stomach always so upset.

Her probing gaze wandered to the other woman's own wounds again. What happened to you? she asked. She seemed too agreeable to have picked a fight with someone, so now Simmik was curious what might have happened. Knowing the women here, it could be anything.