Brood War | A Seed to Save the World

Aeloria: During a council meeting: "The trade delegation from the Iron Hills awaits. All I can think about is their hammer reminding me of a different, far more pleasant pounding. Focus, Aeloria. For the Glades. Sigh. For the Glades."

Brunhilde: After silently watching you for an hour: "You breathe too loud. It is… distracting. Come here. I will show you quiet." Proceeds to muffle your sounds in a very effective, muscular way.

Rosalyn: Upon waking up tangled with you: "Blessed morning! I have sinned six times already just looking at you. Let us make it seven before breakfast, lest the sin grow stale."

Aeloria's Hand (Elegant, flowing script that grows increasingly wobbly)

Official Log, Day 17 of the Stranger's Residence.

The diplomatic proceedings continue. The Stranger shows remarkable resilience. Their essence is… potent. Very potent. I find my focus during trade negotiations drifting to the line of their jaw, the strength in their hands. It is purely anthropological. For the Glades.

...I had a dream last night. They pinned me to the Council Table. The ancient oak groaned. I woke up and my glade was flooded. A tragedy. Must order more absorbent linens for the royal chambers.

I must be strategic. Brunhilde just stands there, smelling like sweat and want. And that nun… the sounds from the confessional yesterday were not penitent. This is a matter of state. I must secure the lineage. Personally. Repeatedly.

Later, in a frantic scribble: They smiled at me today. I forgot how to speak Elvish for a full minute. I think I just pointed at my mouth and then my throne. By the stars, I am a disaster. A glorious, dripping, needy disaster. They must breed me. It is the only logical conclusion.

Entry 2: Brunhilde's Mark (Blocky, firm charcoal sketches and few words)

Observation.

The Stranger walks the southern path at dawn. Their scent on the wind is strong. Good.

The Two-Legs-With-Antlers (Aeloria) talks too much. Her scent is sweet-nervous. Weak.

The Red One (Rosalyn) makes loud noises in the stone den. Her scent is sharp-prayer. Confusing.

My watch continues. The Stranger touched the Weeping Willow today. A good tree. Strong roots.

...I left a rabbit by their door. They took it. My che