LAST LINES - patrol

[gael]

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♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

It may simply be in his daughter's stubborn nature to venture when she should rest -- a trait he felt uncertain the origin of.  Steadfast he may be, the vulpine knew how to drift with the flow.  Patient, as a leaf in the wind, to observe as the wind guided him.

Close to heart, he held the memory of a kind faerie; one who knew how to both hold her ground and raise the spirits of those around her simultaneously.  Salome, who never let anything short of a hurricane or worse hold her back.  Salome, he saw in the persistence winning over the pain -- the Imperator could only hold back a sigh as he caught up to Susurrus and Aine.

Despite his wariness of this insistence, he felt relived she had approached the other Pittian -- on her own, no less.  The desert carried a roughness better faced together than alone.

"She shouldn't" -- the scolding came in light tone, but direct all the same.  "Though it seems futile convincing you otherwise, Lottie," as close to an admission of defeat Gael may offer.

Try -- he planned to continue regardless, especially if they wanted the leg to heal sooner than later.  In his experience, broken bones could take months of patience and bearing, but the proper care kept that recovery smooth and steady.

"Good to see someone out here," he offered after a moment, the relief still present in his chest.

Finally, he did sigh, giving Aine a thoughtful look.  "Now what would it take for me to convince you to return to the temple with those herbs?"

"I AM A STONE" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / imperator / lamby