Aurèle recalled her nephew much in the way he did her—the boy had been mouthy as a child, but not as annoying as his sister. She could not remember much of Tayui’s other children, but Atilla had made enough of an impression on her to be recalled. He was bold, and had been unafraid to speak to her despite her size and demeanor. Seeing not much had changed, a satisfied smile remained on her face. “Oh thank you,” she said, though the compliment rolled off of her like water on a duck’s back. She looked over to Anatole, standing behind Atilla, and barely let her expression change as he mouthed something to her.
Advancing, she did not touch either of the boys and instead looked over the older one. She sought to understand him as a being, and not outside of this. He had gotten weight from his genetics, and (thankfully) not taken after his mother from what she could tell. “You look well,” she said, sealing her approval on his appearance. It was something she had done for all strangers, all prey animals; above all else, she was a hunter. “Causing any trouble?” She asked, the corners of her mouth pulling up in a smirk. That she could recall about him, certainly.
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