"She's da-" After hearing the good news - the child wouldn't be a bastard, a mixed child - Aoife leans in to have a better look at her cousin. Oh, no.

She sits upright again, keeping her eyes on the edge of the garden. "You had his tongue. Still do, probably. You never really cared about such a thing, but I do honestly think you will have to censore yourself the first few years. Maybe not because your daughter will recognize the words, but might be scared by of the tone that accompanies those words." Why was she talking about language when she wanted to reminisce some more, hear about Moira's life away from her?

"There are plenty of things that she should definitely inherit from you", she says instead.