Phoenix Maplewood entschlossen

praimfaya was honest, even bitterly so. her ambitions had not abated, and she would never be subservient. words first fanning his suspicions, then allaying them. an ironic twist of his mouth as he looked out away through the maplewood, which held its beauty even in the breath of early winter.
in the end, however, mahler felt that her directness was refreshing. and the allusion to needing mentorship was not something he wished to ignore. yet for the moment he was voiceless and contemplative once more, moving slowly as he searched for the dark shape of astraeus, as if the boy would materialize and relief could be found again.
"i had considered you for leadership in sagtannet." and stag, the man added to himself, a bitter pang of pride slicing through him. in the end the son of stigmata had chosen the woman that his father would have preferred. mahler had grown apart from the heavy dominance of diaspora. for that he could not fault stag. it existed in the boy to be fiercely, eternally loyal.
he tipped his head toward praimfaya again. "i vill not fight those conflicts for you. but i could educate."
guide. lead. it was all mahler had known for many years, a collective birthright he hoped to pass down.
mind warned of trust-lack, of deposement, of a threat in the girl he was wrong to not place first. but instinct pledged him tightly, and it was to the latter the gargoyle listened this time.