and like a book cover, I am what I hide
A twist of a smile that is some concoction of grateful and sardonic plays on a fair face. "I am no healer, I am as jaded and bitter as I'm sure I seem, but fifty years is enough to teach any young Fae that healing does not stop even when you stubbornly pick at the wound." Fingers would always stray from torn flesh, sleep would forcefully quiet discordant minds. Healing was inevitable. Or perhaps Nephele is the strange one to think of it like a slow-stalking predator instead of some other, kinder notion.
Humming quietly in consideration, Nephele straightens and begins to wade back out of the river, single-minded and focused despite how it may make her come off as abandoning Maeve. Returning to the shore, she sets her pan down on a larger rock and opens her pocket to peer inside while responding. "War twists us all, regardless of our desires to remain at a distance, uninvolved and unimportant. It is our connections that doom us - you to your child, me to my kin. The Greatwood at large. So many, many threads..." trailing off on a dark note, she plucks a stone from her pocket and holds it to the light, examining its shine.
Humming quietly in consideration, Nephele straightens and begins to wade back out of the river, single-minded and focused despite how it may make her come off as abandoning Maeve. Returning to the shore, she sets her pan down on a larger rock and opens her pocket to peer inside while responding. "War twists us all, regardless of our desires to remain at a distance, uninvolved and unimportant. It is our connections that doom us - you to your child, me to my kin. The Greatwood at large. So many, many threads..." trailing off on a dark note, she plucks a stone from her pocket and holds it to the light, examining its shine.
