Ravensblood Forest serenity

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they had shared so much.

yet still he kept clutched close the memories of a life before. of a wife, of a happy home — because using the wake of it and the misery had been easier. it was better to create something new than if he had stayed back there. to clean up after everyone's mourning.

he may have lived in those memories now had she not become a sobbing mess. there was the reflex to scoop her up. to soothe, to pray together, sing hymns until she fell asleep.

was such still his place? or would it fuel something he could not speak upon?

he offered himself as shelter, but this time he did not press forward so freely. she must decide her boundaries now between them. always, always, always he had focused upon her healing. using it to heal himself.

married and kids.

somehow the very thing that had plagued his thoughts, he suddenly wished to send so far away.

i won't what? love you?

he was prepared to lay in the grave they made for each other with their shoveling words.