With each day, my daughter's abdomen grows and so, my fury grows with it. I bide my time, however, assured that he will believe himself forgotten or forgiven and yet, his scent still burns the back of my throat like bad blood. I wait, for the longer I wait, the less he will come to expect retribution and so, the less Asteraia will have it within their right mind's to point their accusations towards Glorall. Waiting is difficult, yes, but sometimes, it is the things you wait for that satiate you the most.
I am thankful, then, that I hear a call from the borders; it is vaguely familiar, a blur of a face beside Solaris' own. Alistair, was it not? His self proclaimed succesor? It is an interesting thing that Taviora sends him rather than Zeltzin or even Zelda herself - I am sure it is for little more than the pleasantries of his role. After all, Taviora and Glorall have a...unique relationship. It is best to agree upon the terms without the presence of shared blood clouding either judgement.
Despite the heat of anger that perpetually sits in the bottom of my gut, I do well in remaining passive; I greet him at a jog, approaching from face on as I remember his peculiarity. I am curious, in any case, to see how this encounter will go with his inability to hear; I am not obliged to give him as much leeway as I did with Solaris. Still, I offer him something with my direct approach, offering him a small nod of greeting before I take a seat before him.