Moonspear raised high, brought low

He felt himself stiffen when she drew nearer, drawing herself from the shallows a bit deeper into the river. She kept her distance and it made him feel that his own distance had been appropriate. He watched her briefly, although the glances he stole felt almost inappropriate, as though they may be too much to bear for her. Ears perked in her direction momentarily before falling to the side, splaying in near-uncertainty and he looked back to the water, as though he was back to looking for fish. In truth, while his eyes watched the water, his mind watched his tattered soul, trying to find ways to fix the holes that current events had left in his heart.

The words were almost too much when she spoke, like a hammer breaking a glass wall; her words the hammer and the glass wall the peace that had fallen between them. She said nothing, nothing of importance. Charon didn't remember ever hearing Ame say nothing of importance, small talk. She only spoke when it mattered, and every time she spoke her words made sense.

There was little sense in her words now, for he had eyes to see; to see that there were mostly minnows flitting around them, to see that she hadn't caught and eaten a fish. Yet these thoughts remained in his head, the outside of his face blank, having found himself the purpose of fishing. He wanted to say something — anything — for with her words she had broken the peaceful existance they had created wordlessly between them, she had outspoken her desire for words between them. He was not sure if she wanted them there to have anything between them, to keep the distance, or because she wanted the closeness back, wanted them to be able to speak freely.

But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a low, hummed "hmm-hm." He kept his gaze on the watery wall between them; not much distance to cross, and yet so very much. From a distance, the scene could look serene and sweet, like an old couple that just shuffled about, looking at this thing and that. But the truth was far from it. He just didn't know what to say to her. He wanted to fix her, but he was also angry at her, at everyone who had stood by and let it happen. And he couldn't change it now. There was no easy fix. He didn't want to push her away, and yet she felt so very far away. Yet any step closer would make him feel as though it was too close, as though he should take more distance, as if he was making her uncomfortable, fear of the closeness arose, and so he was stuck where he stood.

Charon lazily swatted a paw at some of the minnows, as if hoping they would make place for something bigger. He wanted to get her some food, so that he could at least do that for her, but somehow even that seemed like a task he could not manage.

He looked at her again, briefly, before averting his eyes and wondering, a hoarse tone to his first word due to disuse, "Are you expecting?" Because he thought she would be, what with the culmination of their mateship, and she looked bigger than before; but she would know better than he.