Jade
When thinking back, I find it hard to reminisce. But in my old age, there's very little else to do. As the days pass, I grow weary and tired. Every dark color that processes through my vision is so somniferous. I feel like I am stricken with narcolepsy. But I press on. After all, there is very little to do, and the one time I tried to change fate through manipulating timelines...
We will just say it was quite botched.
Nonetheless, through all that I have lived through and witnessed, I am still happy to awake and take care of those I have come to share a bond with. Some... delinquents, among them, but even they will learn eventually. Even if it is outside the boundaries of my life cycle. Hopefully I can teach them at least that.
As futile as my attempts may seem.
It feels very surreal, sometimes, to think that, I still linger over their shoulders and watch. Not out of intrusion, but out of care. Misperceived, is usually how it goes, and yet, I carry on anyway. Father always said I was stubborn. Perhaps that is how I made it this far.
I question if I would ever have it any other way. It is difficult to think of. I truly do wish some things went differently, but then I wonder if it would ever make it to this moment. Such a complicated question, with many millennium's worth of factors and variables. It strains even my network of thinking to philosophize.
Clink. Clink.
The glass sounds ticked against the cobblestone floors. It was a hardened teardrop shape, softly striking the floor at Vela's feet. As they fell from Vela's cheek, they bounced and rolled off the fabric of her dress, striking and rolling along the floor, and coming to a halt with a back-and-forth rippling motion.
She adjusted herself in her chair, hunching over a little bit. She kept the small bundle in her arms pressed firmly against her chest. Her eyes squinted shut, the tenseness around them enough to shudder the faults below her.
...Damn my eyes.
The teardrops continued to clutter the floor. Each one had a small hint of emerald coloring to it. As they settled in a very small pile, a small stirring noise came from the whelpling held within Vela's arms.
"Good morning, Little Miss Andorasera." She said, trying to sound at least slightly cheerful.
The whelpling let out a groggy yawn, her eyes shut for the duration of. When they came open, they only barely did so. She still needed to adjust to the light. She stood to all four, and shook herself off. She quickly launched herself up onto Vela's shoulder.
"Nem ezro sere burionam, nmh?" [Not too keen on going back to your mother, hm?]
"Nek crona." [Not yet.]
Vela let out a soft laugh, as the whelpling curled upon her shoulder. She let out a sigh of... moderate content, at least. Her hand reached to gently brush Andorasera's head, scratching the scales softly.
...no. No, I wouldn't change it for anything. I am destined to pave their fate. As best I can.