Sleepy Fox Hollow shadows that lift off the bloom and the velvet

last from me!

“oh, well, it’s my fault really…” she muttered, “i’ve been— angry, about…”

what had she been angry about, anyway? the move, she remembered as much as that. 

"stuff."

putting honest hours into a garden, only for her hand to be forced in its abandonment — twice! the catalyst to her refusal in arraying rivenwood with her former passion.

it wouldn’t be the same without stag’s help, at any rate. he had always been just tall enough to reach natural arbors, strong enough to roll stones into a diadem ‘round her botanical chaos, and always, always! game enough to indulge her every whim with cheer, no matter how absurd the request, simply because he wanted to.

a wave of bitter hurt rolled up on her shores and she cut her gaze away, suddenly having to coax her train of thought back on track. the urge to clarify neatened her posture until there was no slouch to be seen and compulsory words trundled forth.

“i’ve been childish, but mostly selfish, avoiding him—,”  guilt flared in her voice. she exhaled. “i’ve been avoiding him.” 

that was it, really. she didn't seem him less through any fault of his own. only hers.

“it felt good to be the unavailable one,” she admitted, remembering herself and subsiding with a sink to her seat that screamed of the ashamed. 

how would karma seek to bring such largesse of ego to heel? not with magnanimity, of that much she was certain… but it would come. one fine day, it would surprise her severely.

her brows drew as her mother spoke at length of stag and the unknowns of his situation. “what?” she demanded, the onset of tears suddenly webbing her voice. she tried to stall their march on her lashline with a hasty swipe of her ankle. “sepa- explain what you mean. he was just.. gone? did he seem upset, or-or—“ the words failed her.

she figured she’d at least have somewhere concrete to visit him at someday, to roll stones for his daughters in gardens of their very own! but to phaedra’s horror, she didn’t even have that. much less a confirmation that he was alive. her heart thudded in her chest, revising the cadence of abandonment. 

and how do you think he'd feel now knowing you were attacked by a bear?! did you even look for thade?  phaedra wanted to round on wylla with the grim thought, but her tongue was at anchor in her dry dry dry mouth. her mother was not healthy; she reminded herself of the feverish hallucinations from days prior. to summon the equally possible truth of stag’s fate to words would lend nothing good to her recovery or their reunion. she didn't want to ruin things with her too-big emotions again.

which meant the now impossibly paler geist needed a spell to compose herself.

“i—i should get us some more food,” she blurted, sweeping bones into the brush and on her feet, hurrying past her mother before objections could be raised. 

when she soon returned with mahler, she would be composed anew.