Noctisardor Bypass i called your name

the sun was descending.
having made his neonatal rounds through the forest-limned corridors of rivenwood, mahler's jaws widened in a yawn. with argent here, and now ephemeris, the potential for more hours of sleep grew greater, a relief to the gargoyle.
before he retired, however, mahler found the thread of the last's scent and took it up, meandering until he trudged to a stop alongside the scarred young man with a low clearing of his throat. nothing seemed well enough to say, and so he said not a word, only sharing a moment of companionable silence.