Noctisardor Bypass teil eins

deserving.
mahler had dedicated an entire chapter of his life to contemplation of whether or not he deserved anything. he had decided only through decent works would he achieve peace. rivenwood had meant to be a warrior's place, where the gargoyle could at last take the things that had been denied him.
but no amount of force could bring love, nor the presence of his sons, nor the love of his daughter. nor wylla, who had once more told him in no uncertain terms that his years'-long want for her could not be satisfied with promises or his own language when it came to love.
laurel saw, then, the goodness of exhaustion in mahler, the goodness of a weary man who only wanted to make his handful of amends before death.
wylla, burning with fever.
laurel, glowing with gratitude.
"it can be peaceful for you as vell," he pleaded softly against the round softness of her ear. "this land; it has alvays been a home to me."
a breath, an inhale.
"have children. raise them here. i vill teach them my tongue and my medicines."