@dreamplagued :: "I am made of memories."
Vaenna let out a small, weary sigh as she twisted the wet rag within her hand, wringing it clear of excess water before she dabbed at the princeling's sweat drenched brow. The scent of incense and herbs clung to her skin.
"No, my child, you are made of flesh and blood, just as the rest of us. It is taught that we are all bound to our bodies, weak and infallible as they are. It is a reminder from the Gods that we are mortal."
She had tried for years to force herself to feel the affection for Maekar's sons that she had fostered for their mother and father, for their sisters, but despite all her best efforts she could only feel pity. Overwhelming, unending pity that gnawed at the pit of her stomach. And none made her feel so distraught as Prince Daeron, though she did not know why, a fact that displeased her even more.
"A memory is kinder than that."