When the doe's silver crown begins to shake back and forth, Lakota's violet eyes slowly began to narrow, already anticipating the answer about to fall forth from Arah's pale lips. The tears that thickened her voice made Lakota feel awkward, eyes shifting about indecisively, both compelled to comfort her and so used to not that she was caught in a motionless stump. Instead, Lakota slowly drew her gaze back as Arah's left hers, watching the other fae stare passively at the ground before offering a submissive nod of understanding. The Poisoner was not so weak as to succumb to losing her memories, to doom herself to making the same mistakes later on in life. Surely Arah understood that, and Lakota suspected she did by the nodding of her crown. But clearly, Lakota had not said the right answer, by how Arah was not only behaving but by what she'd said moments before. Was there even a right answer? Or was Lakota stuck in a catch twenty two with this mare she had loved? They'd hurt each other, neither were blameless, but there was still a level of affection in Lakota's breast that would always be reserved for the ivory dame.

Though she admitted to having startled at the sudden movement, Lakota quieted, reaching in tandem to rub their cheeks together in a soft motion that reminded her of better, simpler days. Days they'd spent together, in fact. The silver femme withdrew, speaking ridiculous words that had Lakota's brows arching higher and higher. What the heck was she saying? And why? So stunned by the idiocy- Lakota loved her, truly, but she wouldn't hold back- of her words, the Poisoner made no motion to keep her at her side. Aodaun mentally noted the approaching storm, and Lakota whispered a tendril of gratitude in response, watching as Arah began to walk away. Finally she found her voice and she stepped forward, crossing over the tracks Arah had left in the snow when their cheeks had met, eyes rolling at the dismissive dove.

Her voice called out; sharp, an order. "Quit the dramatics, Arah. Get your ass back over here, you think I'll let you leave that easily?" She snorted, a ghost of white surrounding her nostrils, and she arched a brow at the femme. Crass, perhaps, but Lakota never denied being so. "Don't be so ridiculous. You're not getting rid of me like that, and certainly not in a storm like this. Now come." Turning, she flicked her plume idly and turned her head to look over her shoulder, waiting impatiently for Arah to heed her words before letting her head fall back to natural position. There was a sheltered coven not far, Lakota had perused these lands often enough to know precisely where, and it would keep them relatively sheltered for the next few hours of the storm.