Nova Peak The rhythm of a beating, braver heart.

"i am only tired, i think," mahler admitted softly. "vorried that ve vill have to leave again." diaspora, the hollow, sagtannet. and through each of these places the goldspun sylph alongside him had been, even hearkening back to the pack upon the shoreline he had once inhabited with wylla.
all unsaid history — considering it now, mahler marvelled at the separate roads they had taken that seemed intent on reforming once more. he held a similar thread with wylla; grimnismal, the creek, at which they had parted bitterly. he from her. 
mahler had known nyx the same length and yet not at all, for he had not known her near the sea, only as she was after the mountains had honed her. and he had not known wylla in these past years, only carried the memory of her burning.
blinking away the observations that declined swiftly into shame on two accounts, mahler returned to himself. "are you lonely, nyx?" rather hesitantly, and he did not dare look at the woman for fear he would see resentment in her gaze as well.