like a jar, you housed infinite tenderness
and infinite tenderness shattered you

Yael is a woman of well thought out notions, of sitting and thinking as long as she can before choosing a path of action - history tells her time and time again that her rash actions bring about death and destruction for those she loves. Look at Chantale and Aviva, look at the Desert, look at Rhy and Vanquish. She is at her worst when impulsive, because that is when the hate finds its way through and burns insidious little holes in the blanket of love she’s chosen to weave. Her flashy descent was only intended to let them know they had a visitor, to get her single question over and done with, so that both parties could get back to whatever plan they had for the day. It was not intended to be some magical portal to her past indiscretions. Beloved by herself is enough for her to handle - but this? Which asshole deity thought Weaver would be a fun prank to play on the sweet little foreign girl?

A lifetime flashes before her eyes, a chronological fall from grace that culminated in dragons and fire and holding little fillies in her life-crushing jaws. Hurled words. Magic. Spiteful children and false memories. Freedom and peace. All of it - a lifetime and a world ago, and miles and miles from this reality. Her heart jolts, skipping a beat or two as her breath is sucked from her lungs when a vague familiarity becomes concrete and real and utterly undeniable. A thousand questions flip across her tongue as Yael’s eyes go wide and her mouth actually falls open, unable to turn those spring-loaded questions into actual words. How they’d never recognized each other before is… almost unfathomable now that Weaver stands before her, in the very flesh.

You… and more, and she can’t tell if it’s accusation or disbelief - or both? The only biting thing thta comes to mind is that yes, of course Weaver lives here, in this godforsaken kingdom of ice (her disdain for the Basin is only brought about by its climate - she has nothing against those that live here. Except for Beloved), in the very last place she’d ever want to go. That is a blessing in disguise, but all she can manage right now is “Veaver? Xow deed you… ?”

What hasn’t registered yet is that a return B’kanna might not be a pipe dream after all.

The white witch’s approach, however, ignites a fire within her that burns away all questions and wonderment that mere seconds ago, seemed to fill her to bursting. Her eyes flash (a rarity) and she reaches for her power, ready to transform if given the slightest provocation. Whole herd be damned, now she knows where the demon woman lives, and she’d rather let them all know this innocent-looking body is not to be trifled with. They’re practically on the verge of an international incident and it’s only been a couple of minutes! Long ears fly back to her skull as she spits out, “Oh, Adonai, you leev xere too?”

Would that she were a dragon now, she could use an accusatory, sybilant hisssss on the edge of her lips. With unusual sharpness, she answers Weaver's question. “I seek knowledge - collect ze Basin’s stories nekst summer. Tell me xoo to speak to about zat.”