Duck Lake No one dies from love; guess I'll be the first

lestan almost fumbled it, the finality of it resounding hard and cold in his gut. his brow knitted but his resolution did not shake. "i'm sure. we'll be slow," he went on, as much for himself as her. "do you — are you traveling?"
he still was confused, if he was being honest, but his thorough support of reverie made all that quite irrelevant in the end.
"i'm still — sinking roots. into the creek, i mean. one of the leaders there, akavir, we're related."
the small smile froze. why did it feel as if he was finding a grounded sensation just as reverie meant to fly?