Yatrel er Goltbred paused just inside the threshold, one hand on the frame, while taking inventory of the room's exact mood far faster than any attentive mortal mother could hope. Entering her own dining hall after hours of directing the kitchen personally for the important meals always felt like stepping out of the war room and onto a battlefield she had been framing in her own imagination. The reality was always quite different… if the social meeting included her eldest daughter, she'd found.
Ondua was in his usual seat with a slight more slump than normal, though he had a relaxed smile on his face that he was sure came from their firstborn. Elua was behind him and whispering into Onya's ear, the grip and thumb motions the smaller girl made told the duelist that they were discussing a shoulder massage. Something that had been detailed in the illusory training tool recently for the growing cultivator child…
