Noctisardor Bypass wore my language like an amaranth

the face of his snowflower remained expressive, even despite the extended divide that had transpired between them this past year. "sike," mahler chuckled, a rich sound filled with true mirth. a rarity, but phaedra's enthusiasm had wrought it in him. now, right now, he wanted to say, but he had just left praimfaya. the young graf had asked him for a definition of symptoms, and only from there had mahler assumed.
and sequoia had not yet returned. laurel here, and perhaps her own season due to start — to leave would only invite —
the gargoyle, cursed be, never able to simply exist inside moments.
"vone month," he said gently. "there vas still ice on the slopes vhen you vere born. i vant to show you all of sagtannet from on high, so ve must vait for it to melt." he hoped that his sensibilities would not chagrin her; the man stood to his paws and offered her another look. "du und in den bergen."