Moonspear the secret face within the tapestry

Hydra hummed against his back as he made mention of the fact that she didn't, though her closed eyes opened as she wondered aloud, jaw shifting only just against his shoulders, what would you think of me, if I had? Would it make a difference? She removed her head from its comfortable pillow, his winter furs more than sufficient for a favored location upon him. The season had its effects on all the Ostrega girls, and Hydra sought a nearness to Dirge she had never craved before. It was an inexplicable desire, but one she instinctively heeded throughout their interaction. 

Like a cat, Hydra moved to nestle herself beneath his own jaw, now. As he spoke of the late Galaxy, Hydra licked her chops. We will never know what might have been done, what might be different if he had called, she peers to the rippling waters, though as she slides forward in a movement to circle him, Hydra looked to him as she settled near his shoulder. He decided that. He decided the finality of her death. None could contest this, though they could try their hand at arguing 'she might have been dead anyway'. That was not the point—the point was, there was a chance she might still be living and breathing on this mountain were it not for his decision to just run away from their fallen sister. 

I would have taken his tongue, but I did not want to prevent him from speaking up should he find another in a similar state, she seethed. Hydra looked away from Dirge; would he like who he saw, now that he knew more of her heart? What she did, she did for love—but the actions were considered ugly by many. The many she did not care for. Let their loved ones wither to nothing before their eyes and let them do nothing about it! If they did that, they were cowards—if they did not, they were hypocrites to criticize her method, her choice.