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“Watch your step, it can be dangerous here.” You are certain she knows. She does not seem to be the helpless type, blind to the dangers of the world, but you figure it is better safe than sorry. They are the first words you have spoken since Rohan had taken separate ways, veering off sometime before the snow got too thick. You had wondered then if it was something you said, amongst the teasing that had seemingly become habit between the two of you, or if he had disliked the idea of the place that you called home. You had told him of the lake that never freezes, of the strange mirror and the Haruspex that calls it his, of Lena and her songs and her heart, and all the knowledge that she has imparted on to you thus far and the greenhouse (what little you know of it) and all the herbs that you had learned to gather, of the lion-hearted girl made of the night sky, of how the Basin got its name and just how he had to see it for himself. You had also told him of Deimos, of Thranduil and the girl Hotaru that rules beside them. It had been short, saying only that they are competent leaders and fair rulers.
You didn’t––and don’t––have much else to say for them, for you hardly know them. It is a fact that sits sourly within the shadow of your heart, something that you had meant to amend a thousand times before but never found yourself actually doing. All the time the woman never spoke, and you never spoke to her, assuming she would ask if she needed something, speak if she wanted to. Even when he left and silence filled the distance between the two of you, you found she chose to say nothing. You supposed then that it was your job to spark conversation, but everything that jumped to your mind (Where did you come from? What interests you? Would you prefer crafting or healing or star-reading and speaking with our patron god or fighting? What even is your name?) all seemed too invasive or things that would resolve themselves in time, and so you kept your curiosities to yourself.
Soon enough the glint of metal from the half-hidden morning sun catches your eye, and you sigh quietly, relieved to finally be home. Like her, you are tired, your body exhausted both from lack of sleep and no less than foolish travels. “Sentinels. They were created for and tasked with keeping intruders out, and aid in the defense of our home.” It is only moments after passing them that you pause, reaching the end of the path before the decent into the Basin, fondly looking at the snow-covered valley that is your home. It is strange, being on the other side, welcoming someone in instead of being welcomed, though you do your best to remember the way that Arah had introduced you, all the things she pointed out from the tip of this little path. However, as always, you assume she prefers silence, or maybe that she had listened to at least some of your conversation with your sandstone man, or maybe that she prefers to do things for herself, (just like you might have if you were just a little braver, a little bolder) or a mixture of all three, and forgo giving her a verbal tour, instead simply smiling to her, pride and excitement each flashing in turn through your heart.
"Welcome to the Aurora Basin." It is so similar to the first words you ever spoke to her that you almost laugh, though instead your smile grows, more genuine than before. “Come; let me show you to the caves.”
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