[AW] a winding, weaving fate

[Pavetta]

p a v e t t a - - - The golden sir remained unperturbed by her hostile manner. Instead of reacting harshly, he patiently urged her to settle, sternly, soothingly. He stepped closer and brushed under the willows. Pavetta resisted the urge to recoil. He asked in a polite, yet strained voice, to see her wound. She nodded slowly and relaxed, willing her taut muscles to slacken as he examined the damage.  “Oh,” she murmured. Somnus. Alba. Pavetta noticed the barn owl perched calmly on the golden stallion. So he had not been talking to himself after all. How had she missed the bird? Instantly, she felt foolish. Childish. She eyed his companion curiously. Was it possible for owls to glare?  “Your owl does not seem to like me much, Somnus,” she commented dryly as the owl hissed at her. Pavetta's heart no longer rattled in her chest; the adrenaline coursing through her veins seemed to have faded. Now all she felt was an inherent tiredness, weariness seizing her muscles and the fog of pain clouding her mind once again. He assured her that his owl would return shortly. “I have never heard of the realm of Delumine...” If the thistle plant did not exist here, then they were surely no longer in the Rift.  Panic. Numbness. She did not know which she felt more strongly. Somnus settled gently by her side beneath the willows, folding his gold wings in an elegant, practiced manner. The grace in which he managed his wings was admirable. It must be a sight to see him launch into flight. He promised her she would come to no harm. “And I promise I shan’t harm you.” As if she could in this state. A slight twitch of her pale lips was all to hint at her mild, playful sarcasm. He offered to help cleanse her wound and she nodded in reply. She couldn’t reach the wound to clean it herself and it would be foolish and prideful to decline his freely offered assistance. “I ought to stand in the stream for a moment, first.” The cold, clear water would cleanse and rinse the grime and mud caking the angry gash.  She pondered his question for a moment, recalling the shadows and fog, the hot breath of death upon her heels. “A marsh creature of some sort or another, they are quite a common nuisance—,” she almost said where I’m from but she didn’t want to think about that quite yet. “Anyway, the sneaky bastard caught me unawares and snagged my leg before I escaped.” She didn’t mention the portal. She wasn’t ready to come to terms with her precarious, stranded situation. Instead, she figured she ought to apologize for her appalling behavior. How the priestesses would have lectured and scolded her!   “I’m sorry, you know, for before.” She met his eyes calmly, rose quartz on emerald green. “I thank you for your help. My name is Pavetta. Are you a healer-knight of some kind, Somnus?" isn't it a little late, shouldn't you fly away?  little dove with cigarettes ---