When Britiana entered the Oxhead Inn and Tavern, the cacophony of noise hit her ears, and the cacophony of emotion hit her brain. She staggered slightly and frowned, rubbing her forehead. As a Silver Dragon, she had several psionic abilities. The most prominent of her abilities was her empathic abilities. It was a passive ability, and she couldn't block out the low buzz of emotions from others. She could ignore it after getting used to it.

It was a useful ability as it allowed her to sense any one of malicious intent around her. She took a deep breath and took off her cloak, hanging it on a hook at the entrance.

"Bittany!" a loud, coarse voice shouted as an older woman approached with a smile. Britiana smiled back. The locals only knew her as Bittany and her brother as Daniel. Moira was her boss and the owner of the Oxhead. She was a round woman with a voluptuous figure. Her skin was weathered and her hair was brown. She wasn’t dressed to show off, but she wasn’t dressed to cover up either. All the patrons loved her. Her voice was rough but her heart was soft.

"I'm coming, Moira. Sorry if I'm late," she said.

"Pish posh. It ain't so bad. But customers have been askin' for yer briskberry tarts, so ye'll be workin' in the kitchen tonight. Cook's got everythin' laid out fer yer," she said in a jovial manner. She was also looking forward to tarts. Although the two siblings weren't sociable, they were friendly and generous. The staff were always given some of the tarts she made. She also often brought baked goods from home, or medicines and remedies if anyone got hurt or ill. 

Britiana smiled and headed toward the kitchen but on her way she abruptly stopped. There was a calm spot in the tap room. An absolutely serene oasis. She turned her head slowly and made eye contact with a pair of violet eyes that were nearly identical to her own. Her breath caught in her throat.

Chrystianna knew the exact moment when her daughter entered the establishment. She saw her take the psychic hit and then shake it off. Her hands clenched again as she watched worriedly. It was only a moment before the plain and unassuming girl looked at her.

A charge seemed to arc between them as they recognized each other. "Tell Cook I'll be there in a second, Moira. I saw an old friend. I want to say hello," Britiana said, finally able to breathe again. She may be able to breathe but her heart was thudding heavily in her ears. She began walking in the direction of the violet-eyed woman.

Moira grinned, not noticing her strangeness. "No problem, pet," she said and bustled off, both her overflowing top and bottom bouncing slightly with her movements. 

Chrystianna stood as Britiana moved toward her. The two met and embraced. Tears filled both their eyes as inexpressible emotions filled their chests. They both knew this wasn't the best place to talk and cry and babble giddily, but they still uttered a single word each that expressed everything at once.

"Britiana," Chrystianna gasped.

"Mom," Britiana whispered. They hugged for a moment, then stepped back at the same time. She blinked her slightly blurry eyes. She took her mother's hand. "Come, help me make Grandmere's tarts then we can sit and talk," she said in a slightly hoarse voice as she tried to tap down her emotions.

Chrystianna let out a small laugh. She brushed a hand against one of her eyes. Holding her daughter’s hand, she followed her into the kitchen of the inn. "Where's your brother?" she asked. Why were they separated? She didn’t expect this.

"He's a mercenary,” Britiana answered. “He and his company are protecting a farming village in the west that has had their harvests stolen by mountain trolls for the past three years. They managed to get some money together to hire protection this year," she explained. As she entered the kitchen, she greeted the old cook and then wrapped an apron around her waist. She found another one and handed it to her mother.

Chrystianna gave herself a quick glamor to look like a plain woman of a similar age as Moira. She wrapped the borrowed apron around her waist. She greeted the Cook, minded her own business and didn't ask about the stranger. The two of them worked together to make briskberry tarts. They didn't chat much, but both of them smiled peacefully as they worked together.