On the moss beneath Rosie's canopy, the pile that was Sera and Sylvaris had not improved.
The Dawnbringer was curled against her mother's front with her face pressed into the hollow of Sylvaris's throat, one arm hooked around the matron's waist and both legs tangled through the older elf's in a knot neither of them had the strength to untie.
Sylvaris's arms were wrapped around her daughter's shoulders, her silver hair fanned across the younger elf, and the thin silk of their gowns had ridden up past their hips during the last several minutes of writhing until the tangle of bare elven thighs between them was more skin than fabric.
Sera's curves pressed warm and full against her mother's slender frame with every shallow breath, and Sylvaris held her there with her chin resting on the crown of golden hair.
They looked quite sinful together, and they were both in tremendous pain.
"Mom..." Sera whimpered against the warm skin of her mother's throat.
"Mm..."
