Crescent Moon

Log Info

• Title: Crescent Moon
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Verna, Auranar
• Place: Southern Bridge over Tornmwar
• Time: January 5th, 2022
• Summary: Verna seeks out Aryia, who's pensively staring at the crescent moon over the Southern Bridge. She seeks advice from the mul'neissa, the mute having dealt with a deluge of uncovered memories herself. Aryia is caught off guard by the recent developments, but isn't surprised, more worried and annoyed than anything. She gives advice, as well as worries. The mute also poses some possibilities, and one such possibility turns up. Auranar slides into the conversation, greeting both, but handing a Yule gift to Verna. It's opened, and inside is a lovely pair of gloves and a poem book. Aryia steps aside while the two have a moment, but is soon looped back in as Verna introduces them. Auranar finds out that it was Aryia that made Verna's dress, meanwhile Aryia is teasing Verna as much as possible in Handspeech (Auranar doesn't understand it). Some choice comments are made, and the mute vanishes into the night with a smirk. Properly alone now, Verna shares with Auranar a double payload of information. About the memories that aren't hers, and the feelings that are. Fear is expected of the former, folding into resolve and tears. The latter is met with more warmth. However brief and fleeting it was.

Southern Bridge over Tornmwar, Dusk.

The air is damp and cold. The sky a hazy grey, blocking out the brilliant color of the setting sun. Though, a waxing, crescent moon hangs in the air.

Such moon is being observed by a bundled up scarred mul'neissa woman, leaning against the side of the bridge with her glowing gaze upturned towards it. She lost in thought behind the black shawl wrapped around her face. Gloved fingers drumming idly to an unheard tune.

Damp and cold; always a delightful combination, if somewhat expected in the current season. This and the hour make the roadways and bridge connecting them quite less travelled at the moment, though not utterly barren.

Another somewhat bundled individual enters the span from the temple district to the east. The multitude of grays do make Verna blend into the dusk to great degree, though if her intent is to remain unnoticed, the uttered greeting works against this. "Good evening."

Aryia blinks, her having tuned out all the foot traffic behind her some time ago. She lets Out a breath, and levels her head to spy the Mourner. A light smile is offered, as is a raised hand in greeting. "Hey. Just passing through?" she asks with the same hand. <Handspeech>

Verna comes to a halt and takes a moment to doff her hood. Only after does her head shake. "No," she confirms in gesture. "I am here in search of you," an obvious point at the fullblood.

"I have a concern of which you should be aware and warned. As well, I seek your advice." These last words are spoken aloud, if not loudly.

Aryia was used to Verna's mannerisms by this point, and instead of a vague gesture towards herself, she got a firm point in her direction. Her posture straightens up, the pensive and thoughtful expression dashed away into a calm and focus.

"Go ahead." <Handspeech>

Despite the cue, Verna take a further moment before speaking. "I find myself in a situation not unlike your experiences. Recently, I was momentarily inundated by a flood of memories. The episode was somewhat overwhelming."

There is a brief pause, perhaps to acknowledge that Aryia would readily understand that portion. Alternatively, it could also to accentuate what follows. "The concern is that the memories are not my own, and their emotional context is ... unpleasant."

The glowing gaze squints faintly, waned in a fashion not to dissimilar to the moon above them. Though, her brows knit in concern. She affords a moment to think, and let worry etch itself on her calm features before she takes a step closer towards the Mourner.

A hand raises, pauses, then resumes slowly. "And... you wish to know how I dealt with my own deluge of memories," she intuits. "I... understand what you are going through, and I can try to help if I can. Give me a moment to think..."<Handspeech>

Verna nods, a hint of smile forming at Aryia's intuition. Not that she expected any lack thereof. "Yes. You are the most experienced person I know in regards to this particular situation. I trust your judgement."

Her expression then flattens to pursed lips and near-frown. "As well, with that trust and our frequent interactions, I have a request. Should there ever be a concern of my actions and the wellfare of yourself or others, I ask that you not hesitate to act against me."

Aryia bobs her head and holds her chin with a forefinger and thumb in thought. Figuring out the best way to surmise her experiences and insights.

But that addendum from the Mourner makes her train of thought hop tracks.

She blinks at Verna owlishly for a moment. Then she squints. Sighs. And her eyes roll back up to the sky. "M-th-r f-ck-r..." she hisses out before rubbing at her face with the palms of her hands. "C-n't th-t b-tch st-y d-d?"

Her hands slide off her face to press together, eyes closed.

She simply breathes. Forcing herself to think.

Once more, the fullblood's intuition vets itself. Despite the lack of volume and vowels and excess of vulgar vernacular, Verna is able to validate the verse. "Indeed, your insight serves you well... yet I believe the issue is more a matter of the soul-to-soul contact in which we engaged. These are memories, not sentience of any sort. As well, consequences of this nature were considered, and accepted before we acted."

Following that admission, Verna offers, "This does offer some positive opportunities, as well. Any lingering machinations, of which some are known and still more expected, may now be more vulnerable. We may well be able to use these memories to unravel any remaining plans."

Aryia is busy inhaling deeply, then slowly outwards into her steepled hands. Visible breath lazily spilling out and scattering.

By the vein that pulses on the full blood's forehead, one could surmise that positives were silver linings in the the mute's eyes.

Then, a flash of movement. A moonwreathed hand snaps out and grabs the Mourner's robes, and before the word 'what' could be uttered, Verna is yanked close.

She's trembling. Faint, whispered words are uttered by a pointed ear. Like tiny plucks of a palm-muted string. "I can't lose you too." <Celestial>

Verna is startled by the sudden movement, and moreso by the clutch. Of course, by the time she realizes both have occured... well, both have already occured. She relaxes after the intitial startle; she does trust Aryia's judgement afterall.

"I am not lost," Verna assures her softly , going so far as to turn the grab into something of a returned embrace. "In fact, could this not possibly aid you in finding what was?" She is not aware of the full details, but enough to know that matters are related to the former demon duke. As are a great portion of pasts for far too many, alas.

The fullblood's trembling doesn't cease, though the proper hug gets her to relinquish her neigh impossible grip and wrap around the thing half-blood. Breath saying even, despite how shaky it was. "No, you're not. Just don't /become/ lost," she hisses out, the dulcet tones sounding more like a frayed harp. "We... we know somewhat of where to find her. Of what was lost. I just... need the strength to do it."

She deepens the hug, a gloved hand snaking up to hold the back of her friend's head. She steadies a breath in.

Out.

"My advice to you: Know who you are. Know what makes you, you. Accept parts of yourself, even the ones you don't like. If you can hold onto a shred of what is truly you, then you can always follow that thread back." She turns her head to cough and clear her throat. <Celestial>

Verna holds the embrace and listens; to the update, and the advice. After the cough, Verna releases and attempts to step back a stride. Particularly so that her hands are free to gesture to encourage the fullblood not to stress or overexert herself. "You are stronger than most. Know and accept that. Your words are welcome, and I shall heed them. I have no intentions of losing my way." Admitedly, few ever do.

Aryia is hesitant to pull away, but relinquishes the hold. She rubs at her throat, coughing some more and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. The mute shudders a sigh, and bobs her head. "Thank you. I... try to remind myself how far I've come. And if that means I have to go to whatever this Under world is, so be it. I must be strong. I have to show her." She mostly just psyching herself up and talking to herself near the end. "If I have to beat you up for some reason or another, I'm sorry in advance. I'll try and keep the breaks to a minimum." <Handspeech>

"You -are- strong," Verna reiterates simply and somewhat emphatically. "Do not believe otherwise." Concerning the pre-apology, there is a slight upward curl to her lips. At least enough to neutralize the prior frown and pursing. "I granted you explicit permission. There is no need for apologies."

Aryia slowly nods, her looking back up to the crescent moon above with a firmed expression. As if challenging Eluna herself to come down so she could smack her around. Further motions draw her attention, and a faint smirk. "Just don't blast me like you did T-R-AN. I don't think I can take one of those," she teases with a hand. "But very well. I hope your girlfriend doesn't kill me for it."

The smirk has turned into a ribbing grin. <Handspeech>

"I would never intend to, and if I did, that would be why I wish you to-" Verna's response to the fist portion halts cold as she parses the last comment. Her face contorts into an impromptu combination of pleasant and unpleasant; with the added splash of color, the expression might be best dubbed... awkward. A moment passes as she regains most of her composure before replying.

"I have yet to advise and warn her of this... as well, I do not believe that our relation is formally agreed to be that ... status."

Aryia's smile grows more at the reaction garnered was something she was aiming for. The selfsame moon wreathed hand is simply gloved as it reaches out to clap Verna on the shoulder. "Don't worry, just messing with you. I won't tell her you turned red at the thought." She giggles silently. <Handspeech>

If her goal was to distract from other concerns or guide Verna's thoughts in a particular direction, Aryia appears highly successful. The Mourner is now the one who must clear her throat, despite not having recently spoke. Something that she alters, now.

"I encountered her only briefly before and only once since. My duties and her activites have kept us both rather occupied. I have not broached the topic of our relationship, much less explored it."

Perhaps it was part of her goal, or perhaps it was just a friend messing with a friend. Aryia fusses with her Yule gift as Verna gets herself recomposed, the grey metal band being twisted and pushed into a hollow triangle shape.

She nods a bit, putting the jewelery atop her long ear, capping it. "I see, I see. If, for the sake of conversation, we remove all these external pressures. Would that be a topic you'd explore with her?" she asks, leaning against the side of the bridge, her smirk morphing into something more soft. <Handspeech>

That... is a rather pertinent question, in fact. Verna's face contorts in thought, and remains so for a long moment before she responds to the fullblood. "It is one that I would wish to, yes. When such would be appropriate, or even if... I do not know."

Aryia gives a light sigh, her gloved hands motioning to say, "You cannot know if you do not try. Best to try, and miss, then just miss without trying." Advice dispensed, her gaze returns looking up at the waxing crescent moon cutting through the overcast sky. <Handspeech>

As if the topic of their conversation had given birth to the presence of the person they were talking about, Auranar appears some distance to the side. She seems somewhat distracted watching the ships, and yet she doesn't fail to notice Verna or her companion rather quickly, and offers a wave to them as well as a warm smile. The elvish woman is dressed for the cold for the most part, with a heavy crimson coat over top of her similarly colored dress and a warmly bundled scarf which has been tucked into the coat so that the ends don't get in her way. She's also wearing gloves that match, though they seem thin enough to allow her freedom of movement.

There's a scarred mul'neissa woman that catches the bit of movement off to the side, her glowing gaze settling on the wild elf.

She blinks. Then smiles broadly in recognition. She raises a hand to return the wave after making sure her verdant buckle jacket was secured tight to keep the warmth in.

She steals a glance to the Mourner beside her, then back to the red clad elf.

Verna follows Aryia's gaze upward to the moon as she considers the wisdom of the fullblood's words. It is the wave and smile that breaks her from this and she subsequently turns to follow it to... ah, yes. -That- smile.

With her hood currently doffed despite the chill, the Mourner's expression is readily apparent as it shifts from neutrally pensive to ... yes, a smile in return, if a slender (and possible still pensive) thing. She also lifts a hand to offer along with "Good eve to you, Auranar."

Auranar's pink-tipped curls bounce as she comes to a stop and she looks between the pair. "Good evening to you both!" She turns her attention quickly to Verna however, though not really in a rude manner so much as an eager one. "I've been looking for you all over the place it seems."

She smiles widely and then pulls a small but somewhat lumpy package from her coat. It's expertly wrapped with silver paper with a small silver bow, and she smiles widely as she proffers it to the other woman. "Merry Yule."

Aryia's gloved hands motion and gesture, though her lips move to echo their meaning, "Good evening."

Her attention goes to the gift, then to Verna, the not-talking mul'neissa smiling in an amused manner. Enjoying this interaction for some reason or another. <Handspeech>

Verna's brows lift as her expression shifts to some surprise at the admission that she is/was a sought target. Yet before she can express the 'Oh?' that her mouth starts to form, she is presented with a gift. "I... am grateful, thank you. I was to seek you out, as well..."

If for a return gift, she does not immediately offer such. Instead, she eyes the one in hand a long moment. When no further words come to mind, she proceeds to carefully unwrap the item.

"You did?" Auranar asks with interest, but admittedly she's distracted with the pleasure that comes from watching someone unwrap a thoughtful gift. The lumpiness of the package is immediately revealed to be a pair of gray gloves that almost border on black. Thin enough to allow for freedom of movement but well made and warm. Not unlike Auranar's own. Inside the gloves are the real gift however. It is perhaps unsurprisingly a book. A small thin tome of poetry. About Vardama and the Gray Halls it seems. An appropriate gift for a Mourner.

"I wasn't sure if you liked poetry or not, some of it can be quite..." She hesitates and looks a little embarrassed. "Well anyways, I hope you like it."

Aryia watches the unwrapping with interest, a glance stolen to Auranar to ensure that she wasn't invading any sort of private moment between the two. She lightly smiles at the sight. "That's cute," she comments with two fingers brushing against her chin. She makes no move to introduce herself. This wasn't her moment. <Handspeech>

Verna is meticulous yet swift in the uncovering, as if she both did not wish to chance damaging the paper nor anything inside while also harboring eager curiosity to uncover what lies within. First are the gloves, at which her lips flicker in a hint of smile (as seems to be her tendancy). Then is the book, accompanied by Auranar's explanation and exposition of said book. Verna's next thought is an attempt to finish the other sil's sentence with 'dry,' though it does not make it to her lips to be uttered.

Instead, the Mourner shifts promptly to answer Auranar's other concern. The only logical and appopriate response is -obviously- the sudden step forward to embrace the sil with her arms, gift still in hand. Not at all spontaneous, assuredly.

"Thank you," she notes quietly. "It is a wonderful gift."

She did not catch Aryia's signed compliment of it, though obviously agrees.

Auranar is - obviously - surprised by the hug, but she relaxes immediately into it and returns the expression of affection without hesitation. A gentle squeeze is given in excess and if she seems to linger in the embrace slightly then no one is the wiser of it nor could entirely blame her considering it was Verna's choice to give it. "I'm so glad you like it." She abruptly remembers Aryia's presence and coughs gently. "Ah, you haven't introduced me to your friend..."

Aryia can't help but smile from the obviously planned and totally not spontaneous embrace. She turns away towards the railing of the bridge, her looking back up at the crescent moon in silence.

Best to let them have the moment to themselves.

The cough brings her back to her back into the fold, and the glowing eyed mute waves from the hip once and supplies a subtle bow at the waist. Seeing as the wild elf wasn't picking up on her motions, she smiles instead, and glances to Verna.

If there was lingering, Verna appears unaware. The release, and moreso the cough, reminds her of Aryia's presence (as opposed to Auranar's presents) as well as Verna's failings at social proprieties.

"My apologies. Auranar, this is Aryia," she gestures from one to the other with her free hand. "She cannot speak, but she does not allow that to limit her ... expressiveness. Aryia, this is Auranar." After aiding with these introductions, Verna places the book and wrapping within her robes. Her current gloves are removed to join them, replaced with those newly-acquired.

Auranar waits for Verna to step slightly away so that she can offer a polite half-bow to Aryia, her hands folded over her body. "A pleasure to meet you Aryia." Her eyes flicker toward Verna in half question at the remark that Aryia can not speak. A small smile steals across her features as she subtly notes that Verna is replacing her gloves and then she steals her eyes back to the woman she hasn't gotten to know yet. "I hope that I am not interupting you then?"

It's rather apparent as to the cause of her in capability of speech; a jagged, old scar runs across the front of Aryia's throat. "Nice to meet you as well. Verna has told me quite a lot about you. You are not interrupting anything at all. And Verna, " she looks to the Mourner, a corner of the mute's lips lifted upwards. "Could you translate as much or as little as you want?"

Oh no. Not that smile. A mul was mul'ing. <Handspeech>

Verna takes the liberty of shaking her head in the negative to Auranar's concerns even as she watches Aryia's gestures. She pivots somewhat to make this easier, standing rather alongside Auranar to face Aryia, now, rather than need to pan to and fro so much between them.

"You are not interrupting at all, we both agree," she assures the syl. "She is pleased to meet you and-" Verna pauses her somewhat wrote translation before continuing. "...Aryia may have learned something of you through me."

Yes, now she parses the note for her to translate as she wishes. She would note to Aryia that such may have been more useful -first-, but does not mention it now.

Auranar seems somewhat relieved that she's not interrupting anything, and she nods once. "Really?" She smiles gently but with curiosity. "Oh, I wish I knew how to talk with my hands!" She looks at Aryia with a slightly mischeivious expression on her features. "It's always so interesting to know what people think about you when you're not around don't you agree?"

Aryia looks to Verna, her smiling a bit sweetly for a moment before returning to Auranar. She nods in agreement, then further supplies with, "Of course. I assure you only good things have been spoken of you." The mischievous expression is mirrored on the scarred mul's visage. " Mostly about how kind you are, and understanding. Verna /really/ enjoys your company."

Oh now she's just reveling in this.

" It's helpful," she motions as an aside about Handspeech. Like right now. It certainly help Verna out. <Handspeech>

"If you are willing," Verna offers to Auranar, "I can share my knowledge of it." Now that the offer is made, however, and she continues to parse Aryia's gestures... she begins to have second thoughts. The rather eager smile is also something of a concern. Verna could gesture back a retort or twelve, but that would be impolite to Auranar.

Instead, the Mourner pauses to inhale before offering a summary translation to the syl, yet while her eyes remain more upon the fullblood mul. "No ill was spoken of you, Auranar. Quite the opposite. I am quite fond of you, thus have been both verbose and worried where you are concerned."

Now she turns her head towards Auranar. "Aryia, as a friend, has been very helpful, encouraging, and somewhat endlessly ... teasing about such."

Auranar tilted her head, and admittedly seems somewhat... amused both by the fact that Verna seems somewhat put on the spot by Aryia and the fact that Verna is taking it in fairly good stride. There's a softness in her gaze as she watches the exchange and she finally looks steadily at Verna. "I didn't know that you talked so much about me Verna. I'm... I worry about you too you know?" She glances downward to her hands and then smiles at Aryia. "I'm glad she has friends like you to encourage her, I know she feels sometimes like she's not very good at the social things but I've always felt that she does better than she expects. Though I ask that you try to be kind to her rather than teasing."

Aryia beams as the half-mul calls her out on the ribbing. She snickers, a breathy sound. The mute was going to pay for this later, but she was totally okay with whatever repurcussions came of this.

The mute's attention softens at Auranar's request. Her reveling smile turns tame, and she bows her head in a deep agreement. "I know when to stop, don't worry. Just sometimes she needs a little nudging to do something. Verna does a good job at social things. Got to give her credit for that."

It seems the teasing has ceased.

The pugilist glances to the Mourner. "I think what we talked about might be an easy reality to manifest." She winks.

Okay, just a little bit more. <Handspeech>

As something of a polyglot, Verna has performed translation work previously. Transcription of text is obviously quite simple and impersonal, yet even enabling conversation between third parties can be professional and impartial. The current conversation, however, is rather not impersonal given the topic.

Verna looks between the two of them, perhaps being somewhat caught, though the smiles from both are reassuring as she takes a moment. "I did not mean to imply that Aryia's efforts were ill-intended; they were not." This is conveyed to both for transparency. "You have both been of great aid and importance to me and I am grateful for your opinions."

Auranar laughed gently. "I didn't mean to imply that she was ill of intent either, just..." She looks at Aryia briefly and then touches Verna gently on the shoulder. "You mean a lot to me Verna, and I can tell that she means well. Her eyes tell me that she does, even if I can't read her hands."

The hand is taken back and Auranar smiles again at Aryia. "I didn't mean anything at all by what I said. I'm sure your teasing is in good fun."

The mute fires off a thumbs up towards Auranar, and she waves a hand off. No hard feelings about that.

Aryia's gaze swings between the two women, to the light touch, the words. She turns to Verna, and she smiles warmly.

Her hands lift to offer something to Verna. "I swear, this is worse than me and Violet."

And then, to Auranar, Aryia can't help but look the wild elf's attire up and down before signing, "I will see if I can make something that matches what you wear next time you two go out." <Handspeech>

Verna was obviously uncetain of potential bruised feelings, and the assurance from both relieve some of the tension in her lips. The signs from Aryia appear to catch her somewhat off-guard, as her brows lift lightly in silent query. She then leans towads Auranar, one freshly-gloved hand resting on the other's shoulder in a reverse of a moment prior. "Aryia wishes to make you something that matches your current entire. She made the dress that I wore for your delightful dinner. Our dinner," she corrects. Verna was also present, and even assisted somewhat.

There is another glance back to Aryia before she adds, somewhat conspiratorially to Auranar, "We are also worse, in her opinion, than she and her girlfriend. I am uncertain if that is a reprimand or a compliment."

Perhaps logical, impersonal, direct translation is the answer? Did Verna suddenly develop confidence and stone-cold deadpan? Is it possible her brain merely shunted to 'auto?'

Auranar seems pleased, comfortable even at the moment and then the offer of making her an outfit comes and she grins suddenly. "Oh! Your friend is a tailor as well? That's amazing!" She seems genuinely impressed, and engaged in the thought of what possiblities exist. "If you're making something for me I'll insist that you let me at least cook for you in return. I don't have a kitchen of my own at the moment but... I'll figure out a way!"

She makes an amused noise and then Verna lowers her voice and suddenly the embarassment from before is back and written all over her face. "Worse? I... I don't know what she means either." That may or may not be an evasion.

Once more, there is another thumbs up and a sharp nod with a grin. A deal struck.

Aryia stares at Auranar with that shimmering, unsettling gaze

It blinks twice.

The mul'neissa rubs at her face, then gestures to Verna with her spare hand. "As dense as I was- no, worse- before me and Violet became a thing."

She leaves it at that.

Back to the wild elf, she smiles warmly, mouths 'I know' with a wink, then starts to slooooowly back away up the road. " Enjoy the nice night you two."

A shadow wafts over from an errant cloud, passes, and the mul'neissa has joined the night. <Handpseech>

Verna offers Aryia a brief gesture of farewell, albeit one that is somewhat distracted; by Auranar is a rather conspicuous part, but also in considering the mul's words. "She bid us to enjoy the evening," is offered in translation.

She pauses, then, for a breath and something of a segue... or admission. "There is much I wish to share with you, and ask you, and some that I must... though I am uncertain of the words."

Auranar waves to Aryia in farewell, and as Verna seeks words, she wraps her arm around Verna's arm. Tilting closer to the other woman as if seeking to stave off the chill. Then she moves forward, so that they can walk along and watch the boats as they talk. "You don't have to find the perfect words Verna. I'll listen whatever you have to say."

Verna may not have expected that exact response, or combination thereof. In hindsight, however, she cannot imagine a more preferred option. Her arm relaxes within Auranar's and the rest of her seems similarly less tense. She might even make for a comfortable leaning-post with all the layers of robes as padding.

A sigh is exhaled, though it is more pleased than exapserated. "I enjoy your company: your presence, your thoughts, your voice, your touch." Her arm lifts slightly in accentuation of the last. "I would delight in more, exploring more, sharing more, with you. If, in whatever way, and for as long as you would have me."

After addressing the wish, she moves to the must. "That said, I learned that there are lingering side-effects to myself from recent events. For your awareness, and possibly safety, you should know that I carry memories that are not mine own. -His- memories, with all of the ... unpleasantness one could expect."

Auranar smiles softly to herself at Verna's words, her head downturned to hide the expression. She squeezes Verna's arm in response however, not wanting to interrupt the other woman. Yet the rest of what Verna says has her lifting her head with an expression of horror twisting her pleasure into nothingness. "What... But..." She closes her mouth before more half-utterances can leave her and she tries to hide the pain that the thought that Verna is sharing memories with the creature that killed her parents causes her. "Is it... Is he possessing you? From your memories?"

Verna's face and lips tighten at Auranar's reaction. She can only imagine how disconcerting the news must be, but she can imagine more than enough, and it pains her. She reaches her other hand over to lay upon her arm to offer some reassurance. "No, it is not so complete."

A pause for breath and to collect what she does understand into words to readily convey. "They are not ever-present and more akin to an aged memory. I was not aware they were present until a topic arised that seemed somehow familiar. When I attempted to recall, that is when the memory assaulted me. As it was from his perspective, it carried all of his emotions and thoughts of the moment. It was all rather ...overwhelming for a moment."

Her arm is squeezed lightly. "It was only a memory, but the brief influence could be dangerous, if not merely unusual or unexpected. Thus you deserve to be informed."

Auranar ducked her head, hiding her emotions again. This time for another reason. "I hate the thought of any part of him..." Her voice is strangely muffled. "Every time we think he's gone he leaves a nasty surprise behind and now..." She's got her free hand covering her face as well. Might be the source of the muffling.

"We'll find a way to fix this Verna." She sounds suddenly determined and she huffs out a breath that sounds like it might be horribly unhappy. "And I don't care how dangerous it is. I won't abandon you to figuring this out yourself."

"Auranar..." Verna's hand shifts from the red-clad arm to the ducked chin and cheek. Gloved (now more thinly and comfortably!) fingers reach to try and uncover her face and turn it towards the Mourner's.

Verna's expression is a mixture of concern in her eyes, determination in the set of her jaw, yet also an overall ... pleasance or softness of something more. "This is a mere consequence, a temporary inconvenience worth the victory. It will be overcom, and I welcome your aid."

She pushes through the determined set and neutral lips to offer her a smile; wide and genuine, in the hopes to rekindle her own. "I expect there is naught that we could not accomplish together."

There's tears in Auranar's eyes. At the thought of a shard of Eclavdran; any part of him inside Verna. Trying to bring her to harm. To harm others through her, and thereby hurt her. She doesn't resist the pull of Verna's hand. Looks at the other woman and smiles. "No... I know I'm useless to you." A tear slips down her cheek. "You were protecting me this whole time, and I... I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."

Verna attempts to hold the smile. She really does. Auranar can, from Verna's perspective, alight everything in the vicinity with hers, so she still attempts to return the favor. Alas, she is not as practiced nor as powerful. It is harder, still, in the face of tears, which pains her as much or more as her words.

A thumb sweeps the cheek to defeat the rolling tear. That much she can do, and she leans her nose closer to Auranar's. "I will not be lost," she assures in a firm tone, meeting her gaze similarly. "I would not see you cry again, if it is in my power. You are -not- useless. You are ... everything to me."

Auranar is nearly the same height as Verna, a little taller in fact, but she manages in that moment to feel smaller. She looks up into Verna's eyes, the starlight reflectin in her dark orbs and their faces a breath apart from one another. It would be so easy to close the distance, and quite suddenly Auranar does, stealing the few inches she has on Verna to rise up and kiss the other woman softly on the lips.

It's a brief thing, almost easy to ignore. Almost easy to think that it's a dream because then Auranar is running away through the snow. Not out of embarassment, but because Verna doesn't want to see her cry, and she'd spare the woman any and every pain she could.

Brief? Perhaps. Easy to ignore? Not in the slightest. It was not expected, yet, like the gift and the shared leaning walk they shared... perfect in hindsight. The moment draws out longer in Verna's mind than it actually lasts, and then Auranar is darting away. Verna watches the pink and red vanish in the night.

Addendum: Yes, entirely too brief. Though she would not exchange it for anything.

-End Scene-