What has been built on bones cannot stand forever.
~Anonymous, carved into a ruin in Eastern Europe (possibly apocryphal)
***
Ravenna stared at herself in the mirror. She still looked entirely different, the regal nature and kohl defining power in her features. A look characterized in just a few days.
"You braid like a Northerner," She said finally, glancing up to the reflection of the girl behind her.
"The cross-weave. It's the style they wear north of Thornviel. I've seen them once. In river villages,"
Edhira didn't meet her gaze but Ravenna could tell the stiffness in her shoulder when she mentioned it.
She hesitated, but smiled faintly. "M-My mother was born near Vetoryn, Milady. She taught me how to braid,"
"So was my nursemaid," Ravenna murmured, recalling Jemima. "She used to hum a river song when she plaited my hair. I haven't heard it since I was ten."
Edhira paused, only for a brief while.
"Do the girls in Draemor still sing those songs?"
