Noctisardor Bypass [m] can you shatter my mirror to see outside myself

laurel truly the most wretched, from the way her tones fell a gradient of emotion to the sheen of her eyes — mahler felt very much the sort of paladin she believed him to be, as if his touch was so righteous. he was flattered at once despite the flare of alarm in the back of his head that it should not be so.
it melded with her scent in the air, into a hydra of soft spears that cut from him his control — he wanted her. he admitted it to himself even as he stepped back, feeling very much that denying any aspect of what he now experienced would lead him to ruin.
mahler questioned every tonality of rein he could keep upon himself.
laurel was unwell.
he did not mean it beneath a veneer of judgement. a sense of justice against himself on her behalf cutting through his clouded wants. to guard her from men, not allow one to be such a way with her. "i cannot —" voice sliced away and then he closed his eyes and retreated further.
he saw her agony but did not understand it; he saw the deep wounded egress of her soul, and understood in some vague objective manner why she had chosen him, but it was not a reason to be as one during this time.
"i cannot give you children, and i cannot, i do not believe, change your hurt. such things are an act of love," sly lutheran wheatfields surging to fore in the earnest piety! "and — laurel, i have failed as a father. this vould only be a contract, and i vill not do that to children. again."