Altar of Twilight andächtig

mahler did not know what to say. 
the grey shadows of space passed between them; he felt the cold of winter bite and heard the emotion in the groundswell of her voice. not an apology she wanted, but his love, something tangible to return for how long she had been in an affectionate mind.
he damned himself; he damned the clasp of shame in his chest and this time he answered both silences, and if nyx allowed it, gathered her into his embrace.
mahler would wait for so long as she allowed; awareness skating upon a knife's-breadth of space between he and the knowledge that when he could not love, he compensated with affection, and when he loved, he was only his cool and resolute self. 
winterveil folding around them in silence.