Andarin: The Mountains: fenrisulfr;

It all made sense, of course, in the grand scheme of things; patterns unconsciously followed, groundwork laid by parents to be passed dutifully on to children. As Sidra had abandoned Enola Gay, so Enola had abandond Fenrisulfr. Of course, she’d never spared a conscious thought to this correlation: it had simply happened, felt natural, the seed planted by history and the rest spurred by my Vane’s peculiar, indifferent personality.

Much like these odd and emotionally barren encounters, Enola Gay had met with her mother on occasion; she’d sniffed the wind, lately, and knew the mare had made her way here again. Perhaps she would seek her out, one last time before this world collapsed and picked an assortment of horses to take with it. But, much like these encounters, there would be little to say; the shadow similarly felt neither resent nor appreciation, and certainly wouldn’t call herself an amiable creature to begin with. So it always came to the sidelong glances and ponderous, empty thoughts of what might have been, or what had become, without regret or pride or pleasure.

As with now; Enola tilted her head, wondering at fate, at life and death and power. A faint smile flickered across her smooth features at Fenrisulr’s upfront query, and she was mildly glad for the distraction to her rolling, purposeless musings. Her daughter was quite wrong: sex was lovely. Easy and meaningless and without emotion, it suited Enola Gay just fine. But it would be a lie to say such a thing, for the Vane knew that love had factored into this little spawn of hers – love she could hardly understand herself and much less explain. So instead she replied,

“Well, I never thought of you as one to go for the uglies.” Meaning Severus, of course – power must have been quite the lure. “I also never thought I’d be a grandmother… ick.” For the first time, she wondered if maybe her storyline was coming to a close… if she would be one of the horses picked off in the collapse. If she turned into a bird in the final instant, perhaps she would stay that way for the rest of her days, finished with the land and finally taking completely to her air. The breeze ruffled her mane, mingling with her daughter’s; the deep fondness for it being perhaps the one thing the two of them truly shared.

"These grandkiddies of mine - what are they like?"

She knew some; she knew they'd tried to kidnap her son. It was enough to draw out her fickle attention and curiosity.