Nova Peak jämmerlich

mahler should have applied himself more in this moment to a proper education, but he found that with phaedra he oft lingered in the before-time of their earlier affability. it was the future now, beyond all the mistakes he had made, and dealing with their aftereffects had proven a challenge for his wistful mind.
mahler focused now upon this moment before him, upon the delicate and endearing snib of phaedra's words and how she had taken so to his mothertongue. an age-old question she had posed, and none more difficult to answer. for a moment he only skimmed her features for some indication she would be open to theory, and then he tilted his head.
"have i told you the story of how the sun decided vhere to make his bed, phaedra?" he was certain that he had told her stories, though the titles and natures and times of those had faded to him. gimlet-jawed a moment in shame, he returned to himself, and gestured downward where the trail began to narrow and drop away. 
the grotto would be a climb, but they were still a small distance off. and so the gargoyle pressed on, waiting in a hopeful flounce for his snowflower to invite his rusted storytelling.