MY DEAR ; weekly task, check-ups

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Ah yes, Thomas' party had certainly been something.

While most of it was now a blur to the petite woman, she did recall one very fascinating detail: the prince with the royal stick up his ass had repeatedly called her 'mom'. Now she was no stranger to Cain's idea of them being one big, reckless family of misfits, but to think that she had been established as their matriarch... well, it made her nauseous. If anything, she felt as if she was trapped in a frat house- that poor mother coerced into doing all the laundry and making sure the boys behaved. She was ancient fire, all rage and fury. She was not their mother. Not willingly anyways.

Maybe a more sober Thomas understood that. If he didn't, she supposed that a little conversation between him and her hungry flames would sort out the matter very quickly. [b][color=#414a4c]"Boy," She supplied lazily as she approached him, not making any attempt to hide her bandaged midsection with her choice of a crop top and, you guessed it, black yoga pants. It was typical Amren attire and she was absolutely dedicated to comfort. [color=#414a4c]"If you're suddenly a knowledgeable doctor, perhaps you might as well take a glance at this pretty nasty scratch I picked up when we visited Griffingate. Some girl thought it would be fun to aim her arrows at me," She grumbled. The wound stung when she slept on it and if she moved a particular way, possibly because she had really only slapped a bandage on it and called it a day. Amren was no medical professional nor did she exactly care much about injuries and healing and the whatnot. That was where Thomas came in she supposed.