Sawtooth Spire unzureichend

mahler did not know what wylla had told phaedra, only that there had been some scathing explanation of his 'other duties.' but he did not blame his beloved for how she had sought to protect their daughter. there was still some hope in mahler that by bringing elke and ciri and his first little snowflower together, that they might find some camaraderie even if their mothers were at odds.
but it was not one he would press, and mahler by now recognized the true futility of the unrealistic dream. 
phaedra had become reticent, a tear-worn stone settled on some far bank that mahler could not reach, attempt as he might to bridge the chasm between them. perhaps, perhaps, perhaps; his mind suggested many dozens of outcomes and yet none of them mattered as she turned away again, his guarded erbe and her coolness cultivated no doubt by solitude and the impassivity that marked both of her progenitors.
"alles klar, phaedra," mahler murmured in a word that hid his hurt, for he did not deserve to feel such. "ich werde dich dort suchen."
if she did not turn to him again, mahler removed himself some distance, and then longer, letting her alone with the spinners and their silk-robed violets, moving off toward whatever vague event on the horizon beckoned; endless, endless, and all ruined.