Whitewater Gorge i wish i could rub the grief from you as if it were a smudge on the cheek

agh messy lil post sorry

’You have done what you can.’ Had she, though? There wasn’t more that within her power that she could bring about? As her once-deliverer continued, Aure let herself wilt into him once more; cheek finding the dark crook of shoulder, in some pilgrimage for solace.
And there was no doubt her boy would metamorphos in some way or another, with this; but the silver would do what she could to be at his side, every thought and step of the way. Even if—

“Mahler,” flit from scarred lips with an almost intimate, la dame blanche-esque incantation; and the waxen herbalist might’ve let herself descend her and her sorrows into the gargoyle, once upon a time. Aure was longing, lonesome... but in her loyalty, loved only one, romantic that she was.
So in the midst of her wearied doze, she was able to continue, “...you should see him. My dragon,” gaze hooded and heavied by wearied lashes. “I have taken him from Diaspora, yet, perhaps it would do him good to see one of you whom he loves, too.”

She’d untwined from where she’d wound herself against him this time, in favor of looking into those pensive lavender eyes to see what was held there. “An epiphany, but... there is not much else I can think to do for him, while he begins to heal.”