I didn’t know what to draw at the Magma session, so I drew a bunch of pokemon from memory

He’s nice, of course—unflappably kind in a way that lifts everyone’s spirits, surprisingly close to Soren given his origins, and helpful in his own right. He comes along with Ezran and his crownguard near everywhere, including to Lux Aurea. He doesn’t complain about the hot sun on the back of his neck, nor about getting his hands dirty, as they map out where the most fertile soil would be for choosing the new farmlands.

He is—in spite of his cheer and relative comfort in any room he enters—quite obviously very sad, even if Amaya can tell he’s trying to hide it. Trying to be strong alone either because he cannot, or will not, lean on those around him.

…strong, and lonely.

She’s kept an eye on Soren the past few years. Sparring when he and Ezran visited; affirming him when she could. She might as well add Terry to the mix. It’ll be not nearly as awkward as mediating whatever grieving, resentment, tethered thing her wife and Miyana have going on.

So Amaya gathers Gren and searches till she finds the boy sitting under a shaded grove tree, his growing birds sitting in the nest beside him. He’s smiling, tapping his toe like maybe he’s humming, but his knees are drawn up to his chest, arms encircling them like he wants to make himself small.

Amaya approaches from the side so she doesn’t cast him in our shadow. “Terry,” she signs, Gren reliably interpreting. “May I join you?”

“Oh, um—” He flashes her a quick, nervous smile. “Of course, aunt—er, General—er, Queen Amaya. Your Radiance.”

She smiles, squinting slightly as she sits beside him. “In all honesty, Terrestrius, I came to talk to you.”

“Oh, erm.” Terry folds and unfolds his hands over his knees, sitting cross-legged now. “About what?”

“I think you know.”

Terry’s face twists. He looks away, his brown eyes turning glassy. Then he straightens, waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, I’m fine, I'm—”

“Crying?”

Terry wipes at his eyes, looking mildly startled when his fingertips come away wet. “Oh. Yeah.”

Amaya can guess why. She still remembers Claudia—bright, cheeky, caring, a girl who seemed a far cry from Viren despite her interest in dark magic—from her few years at the castle during the girl’s youth and well… It’s hard to reconcile that with the monster her nephews have described.

“It is okay to miss her.” Amaya lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently once she’s finished signing.