Larksong Grotto i see fire

As Laurel struggled to maintain her composure, to contain herself, it was clear from his reaction that she had failed to do so. He drew closer. You know what for, dearest. She tensed, afraid, and felt the urge to snap at him, but she didn't. Then he stopped, silently remaining nearby.

The world was a blur to Laurel. Eyes were clouded with wet. She didn't want to be alone anymore. She didn't know that she could anymore. She'd been coping since Indra died, but only because she was alone and she didn't let anyone in. And then Xan — and then, even he left again. Could she really trust someone again, though? And someone who was... Like me?

Something had to give. The shards from her fallen off mask of bubbly, happy Laurel had to go somewhere; either she had to step in them herself or she had to throw them at him. Either she had to chase him away, run away, get away; or give in to his silent offer for support, accept it.

What would he want you to do, dearest? Don't forget to be courteous. His words were cold and dripping with a commanding dominance that caused Laurel to stop mid-sob.

Silently she approached Mahler, to press her quivering face against his neck, should he allow it. He wouldn't be able to see the ugly grief on her face, then. He wouldn't be able to see her. She could hide just a little longer; don a new mask now that her old one had fallen into pieces. She walked through the painful shards of her old mask to assume this new one. Fragile Laurel. Laurel who needed to be cared for, wrapped up, held. But above it all screamed the biggest reason for her to assume this new role, tie the ribbons behind her own head of this new mask —

He would feel good knowing that she sought comfort in him.

That's a good girl, my dearest. The words dripped with venom.