Northstar Vale She rides

The widow hadn't gotten over it. She couldn't. She simply couldn't live without Burke, simply didn't have the strength on her own to care for herself nor the ones around her anymore. Hollow. Empty. Like a deflated balloon, a hole so big that it could never be fixed again. She'd never fly again.

She thought of ending her life, join her mother and her dear mate in the stars, but then who would look up above and see them smiling down on the earth as they followed their loved ones. Burke didn't want her sad. She knew that. But god damn it, why did he have to go then?!

delight feels... defeated, a little. defeated by his inability to solve, to lead, to do... really, anything useful. he feels the depression crawling over him like a rising tide (or, a part of him thinks bitterly, an avalanche) but he cannot do anything to stop it.

at the very least he doesn't have the energy to be anxious anymore. 

the morwinyon spots malice and feels guilt fall upon him -- burke technically hadn't been his fault but his rational brain is turned off. she... looks as sad as he feels, though, and he doesn't want to ... he should check on her, right? he can manage that much. he approaches quietly, expression drawn, and chuffs a solemn greeting to the widow.

They said sadness wasn't permanent, but the scars it left were. Just like the one she sported on her eyes. But these scars were on her heart and soul, something she valued more. She watched the sky, saw the clouds rolling by, but there was no indication that Burke was watching. That he was even there.

Her sad yellow eyes sought the source of a greeting, landing on Delight's rather sad features as well. She whined back, ears drooping over her skull. She was a mess right now and she'd rather not let anyone see.

awkwardly he looks away, feeling suddenly like he's being vouyeristic. "um, if you'd rather be alone, i can go," the androgyne says quietly, "or we can be quiet and melancholy together and not talk about our feelings at all." or, god forbid, they could talk about their feelings, but delight doesn't particularly want to and something tells him malice doesn't, either. he looks back at her carefully, his expression weary but open, slightly tinged by a quiet hopefulness that they might steal a moment of companionable sadness.