Herbalists' Cache supposed to be on stage, but fuck it, i need a minute

water. it flows soundly, softly, a trickling tune that is both melodic and terrible. melodic, because it reminds him of the waters that settled at the base of the crags. at the base of home. terrible, because he knew why gjalla led him here. and he was not okay with it. but he did not find it okay to deny her.

his movements are slow and dipped in hesitation. his eyes look, to her, then around. he feels the grime that coats him, that darkens the pale of his fur into a swampy brown, and he feels his jaw quiver. with emotion. with remaining anger. with residual regret.

his paws reach the water, then his legs slice through the surface. he comes slowly, until he is at her side, his breath fanning gently over her forehead, where his mouth lingers in frozen pause. quiet. saying nothing.

waiting.