Noctisardor Bypass wore my language like an amaranth

it was easier to speak with her now, but even as he settled into her presence, mahler had not forgotten his litany of transgressions. a bitter rosary of reminders, plucked through his mind each day. yet the gargoyle was determined not to let the guilty creep of his mind dispel their enjoyment of the predatorbirds.
"wenn er blitzt, muss sie ein sturm sein." lightning and storm.
had a pair of ospreys been ever so well-named?
a companionable silence followed.
he wanted, suddenly, to run away from rivenwood with both she and thade; to build something else where wylla had dispelled him, and felt that hover in his chest as he searched for something else to say.