a life between two worlds

Eularia huffed at the older woman. I appreciate a fair warning, Aethra. She grumbled, though she had to admit the timing was pretty good. She needed to discuss her escaped-husband.

So much was going into motion that it felt surreal. The suckling child pressed to her breast just reminded her that things were changing and she needed to change with them. She adjusted the infants, and sighed as if it truly took a lot of power to forgive her friend.

I forgive you. Besides, you need to meet your  godchildren. Aethra was more of an aunt to the Campana children, they had chosen godparents from Francesco's choosing. But the Rhysand babies?

She trusted the woman in front of her with her life, and on more than one occasion, she'd had to put that trust into use. Aethra complimented her, and she chuckled drily, You're too sweet. Or perhaps blind? She teased, quietly.

Magnus had been out for most of the day; where she wasn't sure, but she had said she'd be okay alone. After all, she'd kept a country afloat and reared four children. She could handle the newborns, and if she truly found herself needing help, the palace maids would step in.

As Aethra spoke to the baby, she chuckled softly. This is Verity, and this little girl is Sonnet. She shifted to offer the non-nursing twin to Aethra, smiling brightly. The elf would note that each child wore a different color, to ensure they could be told apart. And the clothing was emboidered with an 'S' or a 'V', if she cared to look closer.

As Verity finished nursing, she settled her on the bed and moved to stand, placing a pillow on either side of the child out of precaution that she might suddenly learn to roll, despite being nowhere near that age.

I needed to talk to you, anyway, so it's good that you came. She stated, as she swept laundry into a pile, before pausing in front of the closet. The dresses and gowns kept here were... non-corseted, and typically something someone of a lower class might wear. But that had always been her preference, she thought these gowns were more beautiful than anything a gaudy noble might wear.

She dressed easily, unbothered by the presence of the other woman in the room. It wasn't anything Aethra had never seen before, after all. Francesco, his death was... faked. And he was supposed to spend this time in hiding. However, somewhere in all of this, he was forced to forget. She paused, carefully brushing her hair out with her hands, though it would do the curls no good. She shook hair from her fingers, even just running her fingers through her hair had pulled enough away to make it stick to her hand.