Noctisardor Bypass wore my language like an amaranth

my mother? and mahler gazed at the love-swept birds. "ich glaube, du hast recht," he said, keeping himself tied to the present and not to the omniscient thought of wylla gliding always along his brainstem.
was it desperate of him even now to hold the barest glow of hope for such again? he found himself embarrassed to have been so affected by a pair of windfowl.
phaedra's shoulder, butting along his own; mahler returned the nudge and cast her a wry grin, one seeking to chase away the cowl that had threatened to hang only a moment ago. "möchten sie sagannet besuchen?"
mahler put aside his burgeoning thoughts of the duties he held in rivenwood. it would be good to depart for a time, and with phaedra no less. mahler hoped that they might be reacquainted with one another as she stood upon the first threshold of her eventful life.
he would attempt, for her, to be spontaneous.