Tightrope

Morrigan was quiet in the face of the girl's emotions. Uncertain around emotions; almost unwilling to learn how to handle the childs feelings. Kieran had been an easier child, raised in his mother's shadow.

You were in a coma—sick. The Veil between the worlds has been removed. It caused a lot of mages to die. Flat. Even. Calculated.

She held out another bracelet. Quiet. Studying the child. She'd taken care with this bracelet, the beads were still his ash, but she had managed to give it color. A light pink. She thought her daughter might like that. We had his funeral, already. I thought... you'd want to keep him with you, too. It was the only moment that her voice wavered.