Sunbeam Lair vicariously I live while the whole world dies

There was, in truth, little Wren could say to truly comfort him. She knew nothing of his daughters, of where they were, of who they were. Nothing of Akashingo. And it's in this time that she feels useless. 
Fuck him, she curses, twinged with a serpent's venom. I'll go with you. For Lilitu. For Silver, the second name comes out in a drawl, wrapped in a cloak of melancholy. 

Not for a second did she regret her words to Germanicus. But what she did regret was not being with Silvertongue right now. And maybe she had already grown far too attached to the thankless idea of her, but the memory of Akavir's lingering scent on the fur between her shoulders brings a small wave of resentment that arrives before she can stop it.
And yet, she does not mention it, because if in some universe where Silvertongue shed her feelings for Crowfeather and had her pick of those from the Creek, Wren felt — knew — that she would not be her choice.

And so Wren sinks to the ground just beside him, languid movements as back is pressed to the floor and limbs are left open for the Mayfair to come closer. She came by it honestly. Silvertongue aside, he needed her. C'mere.