Wapun Meadow rain fell and collected in the hollows of their palms

A part of her regrets her natural distance. She consented to Wardruna's ... advance, is obliged to him for giving her something to hold on to when she had nothing. Yet she has not made much effort to seek him since their arrival to the Valley, nor to become closer with him. Surely the loss of the woman Addie has caused him some pain. Her sudden desire to lower her guard for him, if even a fraction, surprises her. 

She will act on it. "Indeed," Poet says, noting the curated flippancy. Perhaps she should have tried to know this Addie better, that she could better understand the hold the woman has on Wardruna's heart. How long had they known each other, even? Was she like Poet, a lost soul in search of a material grip, or had they shared in something more meaningful? "I have been reflecting, lately," the blasphemer responds, accepting his change of topic though not quite ready to let it go entirely. "Do you recall when we met, I told you I'd nothing left?"

Wryly she smiles, not waiting for an answer before she continues. "I am.. rebuilding bridges, in a sense. You gave me something to grasp while I reconstructed myself. It is an ongoing process," she sighs, "but I feel as if I have made headway at last. Thank you, Wardruna." Her voice comes out smoky and shy, almost childish in her honesty. There is room in her heart still, she thinks, spaces she thought she closed up but has learned to carve out yet again. There is room for healing here, with him and Sif and the wolves of the Valley (even if a bitter part of her, a part she tries to repress, wonders if they would forgive her should they ever learn the true nature of her sin.)