Little Goat Mountain bewusstsein

bittersweet to know that wylla had returned at the very moment mahler decided he must move forward, with his life, with the idea of children, with lovers for whom his heart could and would not sing.
but the shadowpriest was nothing if not determined; he would not be called a liar, or one who would renege upon plans laid after he has given up hope of seeing wylla again.
frustrating, quiet, to know she did not reciprocate. mahler did not feel entitled to wylla's romantic regard, but to know that even if he had been freed of constraints, there was no bridge forward —
fierce, the desire in his breast to kiss her, to trace finally the edge of her finely formed face, to know she existed alongside him now even as they moved dutifully toward more vacuous things.
mahler spun, tormented.
"preparing diaspora for vhatever comes next, be it a decision to follow the herds, or settle to bring about new life." interminable, the cycle — and all he wished was to stave it off for a while longer, each moment spent with wylla a desperate eternity.