The dotted mare raises a corner of her mouth, a half-smile of the kind both her parents had mastered, but her mother perhaps more than her sire. It’s the smile of feeling lifted, away and distracted from a problem, but not fully emotionally separating from the event, as it were. Her feelings are hard to describe, and frankly she doesn’t feel a need to. Lethy had always been able to accept her as she was, right in the moment, and the buckskin Matriarch’s question did not feel like an intrusion. An invite, perhaps, to talk if she wished.
At first, she didn’t think she wished to. ”I visited the Mountain,” she says with a bit of a shrug. She knows the mare has, too, and that this information might be enough to give her an idea of the things she wasn’t talking about. Eurwen looks to the newly-made dragonness, eyes lingering on her sleek form for a moment as if her answers might be hidden there - and then, she returns to the mare’s purple gaze. ”I asked after my mother.” comes the smothered confession, ”and they told me to learn to live with it.”
Her face, while usually diplomatic, calm and easy because she simply felt that way, now seems older and more worried, a crease or two etched in a face that was usually inviting to most. Deep brown eyes find nothing to latch onto, yet she is otherwise perfectly still; turned inward, brooding over the meaning of these events. Breckin had left, and during her own physical challenges, the troubles of her kingdom, and her own daughters, she had never had the chance to learn to cope.
It bubbles up from a deep, dark abyss now, now that her brother had come to tell her that she would not return, that she had been replaced or that perhaps she didn’t want to remember. Either way, she was lost to them, and the hole inside Eurwen’s chest only felt bigger and deeper every time she looked at it - until there was no avoiding it’s presence any longer.
[Izora Lethia]