This year I'm participating in @ockissweek , and my romantic warrior, Diana Trevelyan, took the opportunity to give @greypetrel's OC Aisling a sweet kiss. Thank you for letting me use your gorgeous girl.
I love these two, I'm sure they'll become friends.
For my first piece of @ockissweek, I borrowed @greypetrel's Aisling. I've always thought she and Elowen would be great friends, especially when they were younger, and the idea totally got away from me. See Arja's beautiful art of them here!
Here is Aisling and Elowen meeting for the first time, and how they met each other again after Elowen left for Ferelden:
(Lavellan & Lavellan | 4,195 Words | CW: Brief references to animal birth)
It seemed to Elowen that the other mage girl simply appeared one day, riding at the front of the clan's convoy as they returned from the Arlathvhen.
"Who is that?" she asked her mother as they traveled along the road home, the noise of the Arlathvhen fading behind them. They rode in the same aravel as the girl. Elowen was currently preoccupied by reorganizing some of the things the clan had purchased at the great market under the trees, but she could see flashes of pale-gold hair and deep teal clothing through the other bodies moving to and fro.
"Who?" her mother responded, thrusting a bundle of cloth at her. "Put this somewhere."
Elowen tucked the cloth amongst the other textiles and stood on her toes to see better. She was taller than the girl, which was not surprising. She'd hit an early growth spurt some two months ago and stood taller than most other children her age. Another thing that set her apart from the others, she'd thought bitterly, though it had made climbing trees far easier.
"The one with Keeper. There, Ma, look."
Her mother looked, then turned back with a mulish sort of twist to her mouth.
"New to the clan. A mage, she is. Didn't catch her name. I wasn't a part of the meeting that saw her adopted in. Here."
Elowen reached automatically for the box her mother passed to her, still craning her neck to see. A mage—a mage like her! She'd met a few of them at the Arlathvhen, though all had been older than she. There'd been the dreamy-eyed one from one of the southern clans, skin pale as winter milk and hair cropped close and dark. There had been others too, quick and boisterous or solemn and decided. She had skirted them all, worried they would look to long at her and find her wanting.
None of them had been her age. Certainly, none of them had looked as lost as this girl did, though she'd plastered on a pained smile whenever someone tried to talk to her. Elowen tried to imagine what it would be like to leave everything she knew and ride away with a new clan. No mother always hunting her down when she was lost, none of the children she'd known before the magic, none of the kind adults who slipped her an extra piece of dried meat or berries. She would be frightened too, she decided, sneaking quick looks at the newcomer when the other girl wasn't looking.
These thoughts lingering in the back of her mind, Elowen finished her duties as swiftly as she dared, then darted across the aravel before her mother could think of something else for her to do.
"Hello," she told the other girl in Elvhen. "I'm Elowen."
"There you are," Keeper Deshanna said in the same tongue as the girl shrank closer to her side. "This is Aisling. I'm glad you found your way here, child. The two of you should get acquainted now, for you're to be spending most of your time together from now on. The two of you are to be my First and Second until such time as you are ready to advise and direct the clan in my place. I am certain you will get along. Yes, Aisling?"
The pale girl nodded vigorously, her big eyes flicking between the two of them. She hadn't untucked herself from the Keeper's side. Elowen imagined a mother halla with a fawn huddled under her legs, hiding from some threat. She took a step back as she would have for the halla and smiled wider than she felt like smiling.
"Welcome," she told Aisling. "I'm glad to meet you."
In truth, she was. For all that the girl looked terrified, for all that this must be horrible for her right now, she was company that Elowen hadn't had in what felt like eons. She'd spent most of the last year miserable and alone, and this was the first glimmer of hope she'd had that the solitude would not be permanent. She hoped they would be friends. If not friends, perhaps they could at least be company.
Right then, the boards of the aravel swaying slightly under their feet, she resolved to do whatever she could to make the other girl happy here. If she was happy, if she felt like the clan was home, she wouldn't try to leave. If she was happy, Elowen wouldn't be alone.
Yes, she decided. It was a foolproof plan.
|
Elowen had never been an especially talkative child. She was given to storms of emotion, which peaked like a rainstorm and gave way again to the quiet of a damp forest. On the rare occasions she had a real temper over something, she was always embarrassed afterward regardless of how warranted her temper had been.
It was for this reason that Aisling's silence did not bother her. She did not meet it with a torrent of information, nor did she try to convince the other girl to speak. The two of them studied together, they sat together whenever it was an option (or whenever Elowen made it an option), and gradually they grew around each other as vines grow around a fallen trunk.
It was a slow thing, as all slow-growing vines are. It helped that each was, in her own way, desperate for the other. Elowen had few friends, had lost even those few when she had called lightning from the sky and been set apart from them. Aisling was an adoptee into an unfamiliar clan, and for a long time seemed just as afraid that even this scant familiarity would be taken from her, too.
Still, Elowen did not give up. If she was anything, she was determined. It was for this reason that she ran for the other girl's tent as soon as she heard that one of the halla was about to give birth.
"Pssssst," she hissed, and prodded the sleeping girl's shoulder when she didn't stir. Aisling sat bolt upright, eyes even wider than usual, and flinched back from her.
"Just me," Elowen told her. "Come on—you have to see this. You'll like it, I promise."
Hesitantly, Aisling unwound herself from her blankets and followed. The two of them crept through the wood, pausing now and then when someone wandered past. They were both supposed to be asleep, and she didn't want to risk a passing adult deciding to send them back before they reached their goal.
Tiny, magical lights lit the clearing where the halla rested. Several were gathered around the two elves in the center: Elowen's mother, the keeper of the halla herd, and the Keeper of everybody else. The Keeper leaned on her staff, yawning slightly. The light she'd conjured drew silvery highlights over the increasingly pale hairs in her tight braids. Elowen's mother knelt beside her, murmuring gently to the doe and stroking her hands over the quivering hide.
"Watch," Elowen whispered, all but pressing her mouth against Aisling's ear in an effort to remain unseen. Aisling clutched her shoulder in response, eyes wide as saucers. Elowen winced and transferred Aisling's hand to her own instead.
They didn't have to wait long. Elowen had waited to retrieve her friend until after her mother had called for the Keeper, which always meant the end was near. They had only a few more minutes to wait before the doe cried out, followed swiftly by a wordless call from Elowen's mother. She squeezed Aisling's hard and Aisling squeezed back twice as hard, bouncing slightly where the two of them crouched among the bushes.
"There you are," the Keeper murmured in Dalish, crouching to look more closely. "Beautiful."
A pause.
"The doe looks well, and the babe is whole and unharmed. Look—there she goes."
Stumbling, clumsy, the fawn staggered into view. She was smeared with blood and her legs seemed almost too tiny though they carried her already. Aisling made a noise, a sort of squeal suppressed by her closed mouth and the hand she'd pressed over it. Elowen beamed at her.
"See?" she whispered. "Wait—listen."
This was her favorite part, the one she looked forward to even more than getting to see the babies. Elowen's mother began the song, followed immediately by the Keeper. It started soft, gentle enough for the infant halla's ears, but soon rose into the canopy. Elowen mouthed the words along with them, watching the rest of the herd as their ears flicked and their heads lifted.
Other voices caught the tune and carried it, the song joined by others who hadn't gone to sleep or who were taking a turn at watch. It was an old song; Elowen's mother had told her that they didn't know what all the words meant anymore. The halla knew what it meant, though, and approached as a group to greet their newest member. They dipped their heads one by one, nuzzling or licking the fawn.
"It will smell like them now," Elowen whispered to Aisling. "That's what my mom says. That's how they know it belongs."
Syllables rose in the elven tongue, filling the glade and the woods beyond. She did not know what they all translated to, but she knew what they meant: one of us has just arrived; let her know that she belongs. Let her know that she is ours and we are hers. They sang in a round, the Keeper and the halla-keeper beginning and the clan following close behind.
Elowen looked sidelong at Aisling, smiled, and joined in the third round.
You are ours. We are yours. You are here and we are glad to meet you. Where we make our beds, so too will you make yours. Where you roam, we will roam with you. You are home. You are home.
Elowen could count on one hand the times she'd heard the other girl speak, and all of them had been to the Keeper. Even so, Aisling's voice rose beside her on the second pass, thready and rough with disuse. It gained in strength as they went on, joining seamlessly into the clan's chorus. Elowen wouldn't call attention to her voice now in case it made her stop singing, but she couldn't help holding on more tightly.
It isn't all bad, she thought hard at Aisling. Some things are good. It doesn't have to be lonely.
The song dwindled at last, voices dropping away until only the two in the glade were singing. The herd had finished greeting the fawn and had scattered over the field again, bedding down in the long grass or leaning against each other in the moonlight. Elowen opened her eyes and watched them as the song ended. The doe who'd given birth made a quiet noise, stood, and shook herself. She made her way slowly to her fawn, sniffing the babe over before nudging her away to rest.
"Goodnight," the Keeper called, standing and stretching. Elowen's mother lifted a hand, but remained focused on the dam and fawn.
Arms wrapped tightly around Elowen all at once, cinched around her midsection and tightening by the second.
"Oof!" Elowen gasped.
"Thank you, thank you," Aisling whispered. Tears fell into Elowen's collar and dampened the cloth at her neck. "Do you think they would let me name her? She looks like a cloud, so fluffy and white! I could name her Cloudfluff. Would they let me?"
"I don't know," Elowen said, too shocked to think of anything better to say. "You can ask, I think."
It was the first time her friend had spoken directly to her.
It was, to her relief, far from the last.
|
"I'll be fine," Elowen told Aisling. The two of them stood at the docks with the Keeper, huddled into the shadow lest a human take exception to their lingering goodbye.
"You'll see," she went on.
They'd had this conversation several times before. She knew her lines by now, though she wasn't sure if she meant them. It was likely this uncertainty that had prompted the second, third, fourth, and fifth conversations. If anybody knew her, it was Aisling. This also meant she knew when Elowen was faking confidence. It was an unfortunate side effect of friendship, Elowen thought, that it made lying to oneself and everybody else so much more difficult.
"Write as soon as you reach Ferelden," Aisling said, face buried in her shoulder. "I mean it. Or sooner. Write sooner and send all your letters when the ship gets there. Tell me everything."
"I will," Elowen said. This much, at least, she meant to do.
She met the Keeper's eyes and saw sadness there. It made her angry, though she would not show it. They both knew why Elowen was leaving. Why she had to leave, of all the clan who might have gone. Elowen had abandoned her position as First, had unfairly thrust it onto her dearest friend because she could not bear the weight of responsibility.
She had failed the clan. It was only right that she go to watch this meeting of human factions, to see what would be made of the alliance they proposed.
"You don't have to do this," Aisling whispered, drawing away enough to press her hands to Elowen's cheeks. "You don't have to go."
They knew each other far too well. Elowen pressed her lips together, trying to think of anything she could say, but the Keeper stepped forward and rested a hand on the shorter woman's shoulder.
"It will be difficult to be apart," she said, not unkindly. "The two of you have long been close companions."
"You will have a capable First," Elowen told her, voice raspy from withholding tears. She cleared it twice, avoiding Aisling's eyes. "She'll take good care of the clan."
Keeper Deshanna looked at her for a long time, eyes piercing straight through Elowen. Elowen did not look away. They'd argued long into the night when she'd told the Keeper she would not go on with her training. They had argued longer when she had offered to go to Ferelden and the Conclave the human Divine holding. Keeper was wiser than she, but Elowen was more stubborn. It was perhaps childish that she felt such pride in her own tenacity, but had it not gotten her what she wanted?
She just wanted to do something useful, since she could not do what she was meant to.
"I'd rather take care of it with help," Aisling said. The skin around her eyes was puffy and red. Neither of them had slept last night, and even when she'd gone to lie down Elowen had heard the soft noise of her dearest friend weeping into a pillow.
This was another thing that she would feel guilty over, she knew. She could add it to the list. She had meant to punish herself by going. It was unfair that Aisling must be punished, too.
I have no choice, she thought, and wrapped her arms around Aisling one more time. Aisling squeezed her tightly, as she had all those years ago at the birth of the halla. Elowen blinked rapidly and stared up at the cloudy sky until Aisling let go again.
"We will see each other again," she said, clasping her friend's hand between hers. "I promise. You'll do a great job while I'm gone. Have faith in yourself."
A bell rang out behind her, the final call for passengers to board the ship. Elowen looked over her shoulder and dropped Aisling's hand, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder.
"Keeper," she said. The Keeper had not stopped looking at her. Her hair had gone all to silver, so she looked almost as if she shone when she stood in direct sunlight. Elowen blinked and lowered her eyes, the afterimages of that light burned into her vision.
"Go with my blessing," the Keeper said. The words were formal, spoken in the old tongue. "Come back to your clan when you have learned all you can."
"I will, Keeper," Elowen said, responding in kind, and bowed with a hand pressed over her heart.
"You'd better," Aisling said in the common tongue. She straightened to her full height, which did little to add to her stature.
Dear Aisling, her best friend.
"Goodbye," Elowen said to them both, backing away toward the ship and the sea. "I'll write as soon as I can."
She didn't look back at the two of them standing together behind her. She had made up her mind, but she didn't trust herself. Hadn't the last month proven that? If she turned around now, perhaps it would strike her at last that she was carving a wound into her oldest friend. Perhaps she would give up and go back. She couldn't afford to think twice about this now.
If she had looked back, she would have seen the two of them standing, silent and resolute, until long after she'd boarded the ship. It wasn't until the hull pulled away from the dock that Aisling pressed her face into the Keeper's chest, unable to watch the ship fade into the distance.
|
Duty wasn't much of a comfort. Aisling had thought so for a long time, though her best friend had disagreed. Perhaps it was a good thing to be able to know what she ought to do next, but it didn't make her feel any better.
This was especially true now that Elowen had left her alone for good.
"You haven't spoken in days," the Keeper said beside her.
Aisling didn't look up from the potion she was stirring. Its consistency was slightly off, thicker than it should have been. She was certain she'd measured everything correctly. Even with shaking hands, she could have mixed this in her sleep.
"She wouldn't have wanted this."
Aisling pressed her lips together, reaching for the pitcher of elfroot-infused water and pouring a measure into the pot. She usually found the smell of elfroot calming, but it did little to help her now.
"Did you know," the Keeper went on, crossing the tent to stand on the other side of the pot. "That very first night you spoke to her, she told me immediately. I had barely gone to sleep, and there she was, shaking me awake. Aisling is my friend, she told me. She could hardly settle enough to explain herself, or why she felt this was an emergency."
Aisling looked up despite herself. The Keeper was smiling, but it was a sad one, a letter folded over and over until the crease couldn't help but make itself visible. Aisling had not seen her cry since they'd heard about the explosion, though she seemed years older now than she had before the news arrived. Tears stood in her eyes now, as if she had accepted that they must be offered up before Aisling would respond.
"She cared for you deeply. You know that she—"
"I have to go after her," Aisling interrupted, setting the ladle aside without looking. It fell from the table, scattering green droplets over the blankets lain beneath. The words had been pressed up against the inside of her teeth ever since that messenger had found them.
Every person inside was lost, they had said. No bodies could be recovered.
Well. They wouldn't know unless someone went to look, would they?
"We don't know that she's gone."
"She would have written if she was still here," the Keeper said, reaching across the steaming pot to take Aisling's hands. "Dah'len. You know that—"
"I don't know," Aisling said, pulling her hands away. "Neither do you. Maybe she's being kept somewhere. Maybe she can't write. Maybe she's hurt somewhere, and I'm here just—just stirring things, as if it matters!"
The Keeper did not tell her that it did matter, that what she did was important. She looked at Aisling instead, her cheeks still marked by tears.
"Go," she said at last, and sat heavily on a chest behind her. "I see that I will not convince you otherwise. I won't waste our time trying."
Something like relief rushed straight to Aisling's head, and the room made a single, slow rotation around her.
"Thank you," she said, pressing her hands to her chest. "Thank you. As soon as I find her—if I—I'll send word immediately. I promise."
If the Keeper said anything in response, she did not hear it. She was too busy running to her bedroll and the pack she kept there. There was plenty to take with her, and she had already stayed for two days longer than she'd wanted to.
It wasn't until nearly a week later, well after the clan's final First had left, that the human rode into camp.
"Word from the Inquisition," she said, careful to keep her hands in view, "and word from the Herald herself."
"Herald," the Keeper repeated, pressing through the crowd until she stood at the front. "I will take your message from this Inquisition, but I do not know of any Herald."
She did not hear whatever response the human made. She had lifted the first letter, sealed with the mark of the Inquisition, and seen the handwriting underneath.
She would know that handwriting anywhere.
You were right, Aisling, she thought, and cradled the letters in her hands. Go now. Go as fast as you can.
|
Haven was always cold, day or night.
Elowen rubbed her hands together fruitlessly, chafing dry skin against dry skin. She'd left her gloves behind on this particular walk through the snow. It had been a silly choice when searching for elfroot to harvest. Her hands smelled like the herb when she rubbed them together now, but they remained numb at the fingertips.
Master Dennet was in the process of telling her about how the horses fared since their transfer to the mountains (better than she had, it would seem) when the sentries gave a shout.
"I'll be back," she assured the older man, glancing toward the sound, and he nodded at her even as he turned back to the horse he'd been checking over.
Another shout. Elowen picked up speed until she was hurrying past the troops running drills, past the Commander talking rapidly to a messenger, past Cassandra and her practice dummy.
She could have sworn that was a voice speaking in the elven tongue. She could have sworn it was one she knew. It couldn't be—she must be mistaken. Word had been sent, she'd been assured, but there was no way it could have been received so quickly. The clan would not have sent someone after her. She had abandoned her position, hadn't even achieved her goal by coming here. They wouldn't—
"—Cannot allow you to pass until you state your purpose—" one of the sentries—Elowen could not remember her name—was telling a fur-bundled figure. She didn't get to finish her sentence.
"I told you, I am looking for one of my clan. I've told you two times now. I don't care about whatever you're doing here, I only want—"
Gold hair poking out from under a fur-lined hood, turquoise vallaslin arching over pale skin, slight stature, and feet that were still mostly bare despite the depth of the snow.
Aisling.
"Aisling!" she called, taking a faltering step forward. Sentry and visitor turned to look at her immediately, the sentry's shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. Aisling pushed past, eyes wide. For a moment, they stared at each other.
She had not seen a Dalish elf since she'd left the clan in the Marches. Seeing any vallaslin now was like spotting an oasis in a vast desert; no, like wandering through the cold with no gloves and happening upon a well-built fire. Seeing the face of the friend beneath was so much relief it almost hurt to feel, as if something had reached into her chest and wrenched at her lungs.
"How are you here?" she tried to ask, but she didn't have the breath to form the words properly.
She didn't need words. Aisling was already running, closing the gap between them faster than Elowen might have guessed was possible.
And—well, what else could she do? She ran, too, kicking up puffs of snow behind her as she went. They were going too fast. They would surely run into each other too quickly, knock one another over, do some damage. She didn't care. She couldn't stop now, momentum carrying her forward beyond her own control.
As they neared each other, Aisling leapt, the tears already racing down her wind-chapped cheeks. Elowen reached for her at the same time, teetering dangerously on hidden ice and the snow above, but she didn't care if she fell. She kissed Aisling's cheek and pressed her face into the mass of hair, throat so tight with tears that she couldn't manage to say a single word aloud.
Perhaps it was the cold or the pale world around her, but in the silence around their tears she could have sworn she heard an old song. Where you roam, we roam with you.
*pops out of the void* ewwo @dungeons-and-dragon-age ewwo @greypetrel can't believe it has been almost two years since I drew these two with tiny Fluffy -- now with her updated design! The double A parenting is still strong hehehe
@buttsonthebeach, @beardedladyqueen and everyone else who have been waiting for Truce.... this is not it. BUT it is another Solavellan Kid Fic.
This takes place about three years after the events of Veilguard, when Solas and Lavellan finally have their happy ending because that's what's going to happen. Right BioWare? Right?????
Nan is Aisling's first child from a different relationship. He's 17.
Neria is Solavellan child #1. She's 15. If you have read Truce, you will be happy to notice that by the time this fic happens, Solas has earned the coveted title of "Papae".
Enasali is 3.
-
Aisling sat and embroidered underneath the shade of the massive oak tree in their garden, listening as her youngest child shrieked and ran away from the large monstrous wolf chasing her. It was the size of a small dragon, with six glowing eyes and razor-sharp teeth as tall as the toddler it was after.
Yet Aisling knew her daughter was in no danger, for she knew the man beneath the beast and that he loved Enasali as much as she did. She also knew, as she felt the child growing within her kick, that their lives would be changing yet again (this time for the better) and that soon Solas would have much less time to play their daughter's favorite game of “Chase (and Be Chased By) the Giant Puppy.”
She and Solas had both agreed to spend as much time as possible with their children, particularly Enasali, before the baby came, and most of their time and energy was taken up by the baby.
Aisling’s thoughts were interrupted by peels of laughter, and she looked up from her embroidery to see Solas belly crawl through the flowers, his tail wagging rapidly as he inched closer and closer to Enasali.
“Not through my bellflowers, please!” she called out.
Solas stopped in his tracks and glanced back at her with two of his six eyes. He had the decency to flatten his ears to his skull in a sheepish expression before rolling over slightly to the left to get out of the way of Aisling’s precious bulbs. The fact that he smashed more of them in the process was not lost on her. Or him, for that matter, given the fact that he was now, very pointedly, not looking at her.
Aisling stifled her laughter and decided to let it slide for now.
She was just about to return to her embroidery when she heard a scream, followed by a large crash. Solas, too, heard the crash, and he immediately froze, jumping to his feet with his ears perked up and all six of his eyes focused in the direction of the noise. They both settled, however, when they realized it was their two oldest children screeching down the steps of their Fade home and not an intruder.
“GIVE IT BACK, RENAN!” Neria yelled, trying to grab at her brother. Nan leaped over the banister and made a beeline straight to his mother, a leatherbound journal in his hands and what Aisling could only describe as a shit-eating grin on his face. He ran behind his mother and opened the journal to read it out loud.
“’I saw him again today,’” he read gleefully. “’How have I never noticed how blue his eyes were before now?’”
“I swear, Nan,” Neria seethed, “if you do not give me back my journal right now…”
They chased each other in circles around their mother, who was trying in vain to make them stop.
“That’s enough, you two,” she said warningly, but her children seemed too busy antagonizing each other to hear her. Nan continued to read from Neria’s journal, ignoring her threats and holding her journal up high so his sister couldn’t reach it.
“’I hope I can see him again soon!’” he crowed. “’If only so I can see those pretty blue eyes again!’”
Neria’s face turned as bright red as her hair, and she, in a fit of rage, punched her brother in the gut. Hard.
“STOP IT, THE BOTH OF YOU!” Aisling shouted. Both children looked down in contrition as she stood up, abandoning her embroidery. With her real hand resting on her swollen stomach, she held out her artificial one to Nan expectantly.
“Renan, give me her journal. Now,” she commanded.
Head still bowed, he handed his mother the journal. Aisling then gave it to Neria, who practically yanked it out of her mother’s hand and held it close to her chest.
“Neria,” Aisling said in a severe voice to let her daughter know she meant business, “how many times have your father and I told you that not every problem can be solved with your fists?”
She glanced over at said father, who was conveniently pretending he could not hear the argument as he entertained Enasali. Aisling supposed it was for the best. Their youngest hero worshiped her older siblings and was distraught whenever they argued, and Aisling was unsure if she could deal with a sobbing toddler on top of two misbehaving teenagers.
“Now,” she said, giving both of her children very pointed looks, “I want the two of you to apologize to each other immediately.”
“Ir abelas, Neria,” Nan said. “I shouldn’t have taken your journal or told everyone about your secret boyfriend…”
Aisling glared at her son while Neria looked ready to punch him again.
“Renan Lavellan!”
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
“What is this about a boyfriend?”
They all turned to see a massive lupine head looming down at them, six eyes darting between the three of them in concern.
“Neria, is someone courting you?” he asked, his voice taking on a slightly panicked quality to it. “Who is this boy? How old is he? How did you meet him?”
Neria’s face got redder and redder with each question, while Nan’s grin broadened.
“She met him at one of Uncle Varric’s parties!” he said gleefully. Neria gave him a withering look, and Aisling was suddenly very concerned that Neria would skip the fists and start setting her brother on fire. Then she looked over at Solas, and judging by the look in his six eyes, Aisling knew that he was mentally going over every known associate of Varric Tethras, trying to determine who this mysterious suitor was and how to adequately dispose of them. Probably also with fire.
It took her breath away at times how alike father and daughter were. It was also just as likely to give her a headache.
Aisling pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Solas…” she said warningly.
“What?” Solas replied innocently. “I merely wish to know more about Neria’s boyfriend…” Then, he narrowed his eyes and added, “…whom I would also very much like to meet. Privately.”
Neria threw her arms up in the air in exasperation.
“PAPAE!” she screeched. “THERE IS NO BOYFRIEND!”
Neria clutched her journal to her chest and glared at her family.
"You are all the worst!" she cried before stomping off towards the house.
Aisling heaved a heavy sigh. She had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time she'd hear of this.
aisling belongs to @greypetrel, june belongs to @layalu, elanor belongs to @ndostairlyrium, arianwen belongs to @shivunin and mihri belongs to @n7viper
