amadeo was quiet. in some way he understood that as soon as heda had come to him, bleary-eyed and overtaken with spilling emotion, that this was about to be one of those times where he was meant to listen.
and listen he does, her face pressed into the hard muscle of his chest. she needed to find her children, she says, and he knows automatically that she is referring to the ones who had scattered to the wind — the ones he had never met.
let them come to you, heda, he says it as comfortingly as he can muster, gently trying to push her in the other direction. at this age, and especially after what has happened to them, they are likely trying to find out who they are in the world and where they fit in it. it doesn't mean you did anything wrong, but i do not think they want to be found.
silence carries him over to his next statement. but that bond between parent and child will always prevail. trust that they will return when they are ready. god will lead them back to you. he had been waiting over two years — wren was three now, he realizes — for such a moment. he refrains purposefully from voicing this.
and then she speaks of a leader, of needing one in place of druid. he could have taken it as an invitation, but instead, he merely cocks his head downward in order to meet her gaze. who is it that you'd like to lead beside you?