Sawtooth Spire unzureichend

she sat with sangfroid, anticipating some imperative message that was to be delivered to her mother post-haste. her gaze vacationed in the trees where a tiding of magpies had alighted on the branches of low pines, raspily chattering 'mongst themselves.
waiting, waiting, waiting.
he cleared his throat,
she slipped her eyes back towards her vater, vaguely perceived something take up his lithic features suchlike the mantle of conscience. phaedra's heart quopped achingly; she could not hide the flinch in her expression. only at night, in her infrequently pleasant dreams, were they tenderly united. embraced serenely and one, she could forget the chasm (the chasm of daylight) that divided them.
her freewheeling ears found their full height again when he expressed an interest in showing her something he had found. his voice seemed, to her, laden with languor—the omphalos of grief that smazed their mountain. 
her ears pressed flush against her head. not a message? an invitation? she swallowed the lump in her throat. a sigh unburdened itself from her lungs. "sdag and me was goin'a work on ow garden ..." the blumenfee trailed off, batting halfheartedly at one of the ivory blooms.
she remembered that evening laying in the glade after the foxes had snubbed her arrival, watching a spider engarlanding her web with fine, silvery silk, and how she could have sworn the arachnid had tutted her. maybe it was the same spider ... "well, s'pose i'lls come looksee." she decided, and, smelling of fragrant gardenias, tread tensely to mahler's side. 
"is'id far d'go?" she asked, glimpsing up at the scar-littered armature of his profile before redirecting her eyes to measure with awe the difference in the size of their paws. whereas normally phaedra would have remarked upon it in her typical flamboyantly idiosyncratic way, now the bantam lass remained quiet and featherweight.