Ms. Oxbrydl decides the poor elf needs a mother's care as well and decides to go from treating hir as just a protector and teacher of her son, to looking out for hir as well. Cooking meals, sometimes trying to get hir to wear a jacket as it gets cooler, fussing as she does for Kevin and her new goblin child, and even sometimes singing a lullaby at night trying to get hir to shut hir eyes and sleep for a while.
[AN: Once again, Wraithvine's pronouns are ze/hir]
On the road between obscurity and destiny, Wraithvine found hirself confronted with a crocheted coat made of random odds and ends. Sometimes, it seemed like Ma Oxbrydl had more odd ends in her Knitting Bag of Holding than actual balls of yarn. "What is this?" ze asked, despite knowing exactly what it was.
It was putting a leash on a pup. It was feeding a stray. It was a token of ownership. This is mine, now, and no arguments.
"Gets cold on the road," said Ma Oxbrydl. "You might act above everything 'n' all, but even wizards gets cold." There was a mumbled, "And I don't see you eating nearly enough either..."