Moonstone Quarry The bear that keeps to his own line

As she listened, her posture wilted, the truth of the altar’s purpose settling heavily over her. One might assume she’d be happy to learn he was no longer bound to another—but in truth, her heart ached for him.

To have known love only to lose it felt eerily similar to her own loss of memory, but somehow, it seemed worse. Far worse. If she had ever loved before, she couldn’t remember, yet the lost girl within her imagined it must be like losing a piece of one’s soul.

Still, he was fortunate. He could speak of memories. This altar would serve as one—a tether to someone he had loved—and he could remember her. For that, Fleur was truly glad.

As he continued speaking, she found herself smiling at his words.
“I’d love to see it when it’s finished,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Solharr. She must have been an incredible woman. Maybe I’ll meet her here if her soul is indeed wandering. The winds… they sing to me in this place. I would hope she would chat with me, I think we would have understood each other.”

It was the tiniest hint of her heart speaking, but it was the truth. She and his wife would have had common ground to stand on: him. 

She had paused as words failed her now, bending to pick up the severed piece he had returned to the earth. She held it gently, turning it over in her hands as if, through the act, she might piece something together.

“She was the Seiðkona, wasn’t she? The one you spoke of? What was her name?”