Noctisardor Bypass wore my language like an amaranth

phaedra was turning away, but she did not seem to have grown gaunt and pale beneath his pronouncement. "ich werde es nie vergessen, schatz." as surely as the day was long, mahler would hold himself to the echo he had made here: to take her back to her birthplace, and for himself also, one of the last territories in which he had truly felt whole.
mahler smiled at her.
he would let her go now, but for a long while he wanted only to watch the birds and think of his pearlblossom's mother, teeth and steel and the stresses he had put her beneath.