like (adopted) mother like (adopted) son

The stomping of pawpads alerted her to the presence of another and Aryn's head shifted along the grass to eye the approaching wolf uneasily. Her first instinct told her it was Recluse, here to see her maimed a third time for her failings to protect the one dearest to her. Veigar's appearance was relieving to say the least, but there mingled with the comfort was shame - always shame. The yearling lay down beside her and Aryn's head lifted to mirror his positioning.

Her soft pink gaze lingered only a moment upon the angry scar upon his shoulder, then she found herself staring back into the reflection upon the water in self loathing. "I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be asking how you are." She gave back with a smile, forcing enough contentment into her words that she hoped they would come across as casual and familial. Her and Veigar had drifted apart as soon as the Long Night had fallen, and past that their bond had only fractured further and further. Unwilling to risk even more damage to the relationship, the Valentine woman would feign merriment for as long as she could get away with it. "Does it still hurt?" Nosing her muzzle forward, she gestured toward the healing wound.