Honeyed Pasture take off all the thoughts of what we've been

get over here u red loser
tag for visibility

It was the first time he dared wander from Silvertip— honestly, it didn't even cross his mind that @Phocion would be upset over it. He still could not talk, and getting around was... difficult. Not impossible; certainly he was well enough to travel to the immediately surrounding territories, at least for a bit. He had been lucky, and the care of his companions had helped speed his recovery somewhat.
Still, he could not speak. Cortland found himself taking more comfort in his friend's stories, and in the stars. Once they had only been fascinating in the way all beautiful things were— it was different, now. How could it not be different, seeing the night sky reflected so intensely in the pale priest's eyes? Tonight, he wandered from the mountain with his eyes skyward; perhaps if he could understand them, he could understand Phocion. The man of stardust and silk-spun stories scarcely left his mind, yet...
Coming to a stop in a familiar golden field, he realized he knew so little of him. An ugly, sharp feeling reared within him at the thought that he was perhaps not Phocion's closest friend at Silvertip. He thought then of Poet— of her elegance and gentle nature, of the familiarity between herself and the priest. He thought back to their meeting here, his insecurity laid out before her. The ugly feeling grew until he was forced to turn his gaze from the stars, bitter and confused. Never before had he felt so possessive over a friendship; Phocion could be friends with both of them couldn't he? For some reason, the thought stung— and at the same time, that wasn't it at all.