Sawtooth Spire unglücksfall

"and yours is the same." mahler was not sure he had ever made a friend of a woman. even his companionship with men had been sparse — kierkegaard, stigmata, ingram, wintersbane. but mahler's interactions with the supposed fairer had almost always been upon promise of what he could give: children. and so he had grown distant from them; he would have grown into the very mountain had wylla not come about, descending to grant what was wished of a powerful man, and then decamping for the remainder of the year.

but he could not do that, not now. and mahler no longer wished to do it, was the importance of that fact. "i vould like to valk vith you again, gracious," the gargoyle intoned now, stopping upon their trail to lay his eyes upon her. "and you have given me many things to think about in the meantime." a smile, tugging at the edge of his mouth.