*puts ivorien in your lap* here vez take care of her 5 mins
Simple reflex dictates the need for both hands to clutch about the sides of the babbling elfling, who once loosened from her naneth’s grasp flails her tiny hands upward in protest of abandonment. “Just five minutes,” Ellanorin reiterates; displaying the number via single splayed hand held up for visual reassurance to her adoring progeny. She coos goodbye as she backs away, completely ignoring the wide-eyed bewilderment of the involuntary caretaker.
❝Ellanorin. Wait. Where are you going?❞ Malformed protest sputters out, but returned is the same outstretched palm. Five minutes. As if that is enough to reassure someone who should be unreservedly disqualified from any task involving youth.
The weight of the child (who sits quietly, diligently watching mother disappear) becomes more acute. Five minutes. Temporal musing stalls unwilling engagement, and stills her hands from changing their positioning; hands too unkind to handle such a fragile creature. It was then than that little Ivorien begins to clap, as if some victory was made in being successfully left with the elleth. The act immediately casts suspicion.
❝Who put your mother up to this?❞ Vezely interrogates the babe charily. There were a multitude of better candidates, and most should know better than to suggest leaving her with the child. ❝It was Elrohir, wasn’t it? ❞ She mumbles, teeth gritting as she half-expects to hear his obnoxious laughing somewhere in the distance. This might become the longest five minutes of her life…
