Jade Fern Grove klagelied

Her blighted mind spun words to life that never left Mahler's lips. She thought she heard him say he would go to the ends of the earth to find her, that she was his one and only, that he regretted all that had soured between them. She imagined that he had left Sagtannet, sickened by their rejection of her, and never looked back. It comforted her to know she was important enough to him to do so; she would have done the same for him.

Inexplicable desire ignited in her chest, bid her to reach toward his throat, to press her mouth against the pulsing side of his neck, give in to a sensation they had not shared since—

And maybe then things could—

And—

Then he was pulling away from her as if she had burned him, or as if she disgusted him. At no point had she ever given him a reason to think she could move on from him so quickly—or ever—she did not suspect it was worry of another that drove him away from her. The voice in her head, a keening cry:

He does not want you. He does not love you. He did not come for you.

Why, then? He asked a question. What did she want from him? Hadn't he come looking for her? Hope and relief froze and cracked in every corner of her soul. Her voice was desperate, confused, pleading. What...?

So far fallen from who she was before, now a forsaken and withered thing, sliced open anew before him.