Spoiler: Isaera's House
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"Isaera, oh thank the Light!" Your mother snaps around in her pacing, fixing her pale blue eyes on you as relief fills her features, and crosses the intervening space at speed to embrace you tightly. "I worried so much. I worried so much. Can you believe these two?" The speed at which she transitions from gushing gratitude to recruitment drive would make her sentiment seem inauthentic to someone who didn't know her. But she means it at every level, and that much you do not doubt. Indeed, over her shoulder in the hug, you can see both Aleeana and Tarien have turned their eyes to you, green as they are, with matching expressions of personal relief and affection for you. Whatever your family's trouble, they love each other dearly. Even your mother and sister, who so often seem to be one measure of escalation short of throttling each other, love each other despite the complex matrix of grief and house-pride and parental-disappointment and absolute-blindness-to-a-mutual-flair-for-drama through which they relate to each other. The only reason they aren't moving to hug you is that Aunara got there first, and the bristling field of familial static prevents them from approaching just now.

"They're tapping demon crystals. They're buying this lunatic craze about consuming fel energy!" It doesn't help her case that she, of everyone in the house now and most often, is the most prone to escalating moods and behaviour closest to what one might call lunatic. She held her family desperately together while the world ended, but she did so with a hope that when it was over, the world would rebuild as fast as it fell apart. Some might call having that kind of hope crazy. But she's not crazy - just working her way through an incredible backlog of grief, like everyone else.

"Fel energy is just energy. They're not demon crystals. And it's better than sucking the arcane dust out of every broom and rag in the house - not that we have that option anymore." This causes your mother to uncurl from the embrace, though she keeps one arm around you and leans on you some as she renews her facing at Aleeana's biteback. For the first couple of years after your family's flight from Silvermoon, you had indeed benefited from some of the luxuries of home including brooms and cloths that cleaned the house and themselves with intuitive ease, as well as a whole set of pots and pans and utensils that could make a meal out of food placed in their midst - as well as dance in a merry performance on the tabletop, delighting your youngest cousins. But over the last two years, all of these items began disanimating and losing function. While the surface possibility that they, like you, were suffering from the destruction of the sunwell, the obvious truth was that someone - perhaps everyone - had at some point felt so desperately ached with that knot in their soul that they raised a hand to whatever ladle or brush they could smuggle to their room, and absorbed the glimmering motes that drifted off it, rendering it inert.

"Have some self control, girl! You come from one of the greatest families in the greatest people that have walked on this world. Why taint that with this..." Aunara gestures loosely mournfully, to Aleeana's vibrant green eyes; but the gesture contains within it a spectre of a greater accusation - one that Aleeana feels, and it tightens her expression into venomous anger.

Tarien doesn't interject. He just watches you, like he usually does; bright green eyes full of expectation, and reverence.