Sleepy Fox Hollow i can't find the words so i guess it's time

he had meant to meet and learn from @Mahler on better terms.

but now he came as a willow tree of a sad boy, skirting inland from the edges of paleo. following the only not snowed-over trail he could find in the freezing cold. he was prepared to leave the man be if he was held up with wylla or emmerich. finding it would not be so odd if the family had huddled together in these frigid temperatures.

however he did boyishly wish that the man would be alone.

the boy siku was reclusive. mahler had made himself available but did not seek the boy out. he would come when he was ready.
and when he did, today, in the frigid snow, the gargoyle rose up from where he had been moving snow from a small patch of earth. "hallo, siku. i am checking my planting. vould you like to learn?"

it was best to be asked about work, or talk about work. it gave him a moment to think about things he really wanted to say.

i would like that very much. he admitted, soft and tired. yet warm still despite his recent behavior. how do you find it beneath all the snow?

"several of these things i planted before the snow," mahler revealed. he showed siku the white roots of lavender and the ivory stems of comfrey, the leaves nonexistent for now. and then he covered it again.
"vonce a land is seeded vith herbs, the herbs grow vild. and then they are alvays there for the taking." he smiled, noting the boy's wan nature. but mahler did not comment upon it.

and he found himself in soft awe of this news. that the plants would grow wild, that they would always be there. some part of him struggled to believe it.

always? even with the winter they'll still grow?

he had not lived long enough to see the cycles of the world in full! while he understood that the world could not be cold and snowy forever, sometimes he could not help but wonder.

mahler nodded, pleased that siku took such an interest. "all plants have roots and seeds. in spring and summer, ve see their green tops, their flowers, their fruit, their leaves. but in the vinter, vhen everything is cold, those green things go avay. but the roots remain. they are alvays here, even in the cold and the snow, siku." life went on.

sudden emotions, sorry x)

he listened. closely and keenly.

he could not say why words about plants moved him so deeply. perhaps it was the fact that he did not hear the words like ones about plants. perhaps it was the fact that he had bottled things up in favor of being good to paleo that suddenly the top of the bottle popped.

he had started crying before he could even process that it had begun.

"they are alvays here, even in the cold and the snow, siku."

he did not wail, scream and fight like he had that day on the borders with his father. this was a cry of acceptance, of loosening his grip on himself and allowing paleo to see him as he was for a moment. sniffles and wet cheeks as he looked down at the snow. at mahler's paws and all the knowledge they must have collected.

nor did he know when he had suddenly sat, sunken into himself for a moment as he continued his soft sniffling. the cold air nipping at tear-stained cheeks.

there was a sense of embarrassment softly burning in his chest.

aware that it might look like he was crying over plants, suddenly without explanation.

never be! <3

siku began to cry and mahler knew it was not over the tedium of farming, or the knowledge of plants. there was a deep hurt in the boy, as had been in thade. 
and so he harrumphed low in his throat and pulled siku against him with a motion of his broad heavy arm.
fatherly, father to hurt boys who came and went.
and in silence he would sit, as long as siku needed to vent the bitter bile of pain.

siku promptly buried his face into mahler. finding comfort in the lilac man. softly muffled his crying had become, not once did he pull away from the advisor.

he did not know how many minutes had gone by the time he finally hushed himself.

twenty? thirty? beyond even maybe.

but finally he was silent, face hot from the fit and the thickness of mahler's fur. still he did not leave the man's holding. wondering if he ever would.

he did not have to. "vhen you are ready, ve vill go home to vylla. eat and sleep, siku, near emmerich. he is happy to have a brother i know."
true to his word, he would not speak or move again until the pale boy was ready to set out, and even then, he meant to keep the child tucked close for the sheltering of his broken heart.

go home to wylla.

go sleep with emmerich. a brother, mahler called him.

it became abundantly clear all the holes that paleo filled in his heart. wylla took the place of his mother. mahler took the place of a father he should have known soon. emmerich took the place of his brother.

there was a soft tremble to him as he brought himself to stand, but he nodded. slightly. still pressed into the lavender-eyed healer. yet ready to go home all the same.

and so they would not.
mahler would guide siku beneath the snowy pines, pointing out birds'-nests and clusters of hanging creeper-vines, of drifts ready to fall from heavyladen branches.
mahler, showing the hurt boy the loveliness of the places around him, the ones he hoped would earn the name of home deep in siku's heart one day.