Nova Peak schädigen

Once again, she expected something more from him, a gesture worthy of a best-selling romance novel or critically acclaimed film. Once again, Mahler let her down. She felt like such an idiot wasting her time on him, forever and ever waiting for the proof of his singular love, and finding nothing but disappointment at the end of every ribbon of hope she extended toward him. He didn't want her. He didn't want to be better, he didn't want to make it work. He only wanted peace.

Maybe he would find his voice again when she spent time with men that were not him, but it would be far too late then.

What hope remained to her flatlined, leaving her gaze matte and unfeeling. The obstacle is gone. You hurt me over and over because of her. She almost laughed. She was making excuses for him. You're an idiot, Wylla. Mahler himself was not the obstacle, merely everything he'd done in service to the real obstacle, the one whose mere presence was enough to damage her self-esteem so thoroughly. If not for Nyx then Mahler would not have stood against her on so many occasions, would not have made her feel like she and her emotions were worth nothing with every breath he spent to proclaim the other's innocence. If not for Nyx then she would not have felt so insecure in the first place. She'd known the Ostrega's outer beauty. She'd been jealous of it from the moment her first heat found her so long ago on the cold, harsh sand. Comparatively, she knew she was a rat, now more than ever with that haunting, empty socket.

Women were such fickle and petty things, and Wylla more fickle and petty than most, and she had let that get under her skin enough times that he'd gone and fallen out of love with her, and now all he wanted was peace. Not her. Not a real family. Not a future. Just peace.

It matters to me, she told him flatly, so tell me if it does to you, or don't. I don't matter to you. We don't matter to you. Just his peace with which he could visit his children and spare no emotion elsewhere. She knew, now, how it must have felt to be Takiyok. She understood, now, why the winter-white woman had left Diaspora. Very well; if he did not want to breathe life into his desires now, then let it be done. He need only say it, and she would spare no more energy on fruitless endeavours with a man colder than the mountain stone, nor would she allow him to put her down ever again.