i have died everyday waiting for you
The wind stirred gently through the trees, and the flickering will-o-wisps brightened as if catching their breath. The darkness, so thick it had nearly swallowed the woods whole, softened—not with flame, but with something older and gentler. A hush settled, the kind that came not from fear, but reverence. And then, as naturally as moonlight parting clouds, Mort stepped into the clearing.
He looked much as he always did: boyish and barefoot, curls tousled by the wind, his warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile that was both familiar and endlessly kind. The scent of earth and sunlight lingered around him, subtle and sweet, like memory.
"Maea," he greeted softly, stepping forward without hesitation, not shying from the soil on her hands or the ache in her posture. "It’s good to see you… on this side of the barrier, this time." His smile, though warm, carried the faintest hint of sorrow—because he remembered every time he had seen her in his halls.
Mort crouched beside her, folding his long limbs with the ease of someone entirely at peace in the presence of grief. He glanced toward the fresh grave, the yellow flower resting atop it, then back to her tear-streaked face. "You’ve honoured them well," he murmured, voice like a hush of leaves in autumn. He didn’t offer platitudes or promises. He simply sat with her, with all the weight of her longing, as if he had all the time in the world. Because for him—he did.
"Knowing what you do about the difficulties of returning to this world after having been taken from it...that Shii has lived longer in my realm now than in yours, you would really call them back to you?"
He looked much as he always did: boyish and barefoot, curls tousled by the wind, his warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile that was both familiar and endlessly kind. The scent of earth and sunlight lingered around him, subtle and sweet, like memory.
"Maea," he greeted softly, stepping forward without hesitation, not shying from the soil on her hands or the ache in her posture. "It’s good to see you… on this side of the barrier, this time." His smile, though warm, carried the faintest hint of sorrow—because he remembered every time he had seen her in his halls.
Mort crouched beside her, folding his long limbs with the ease of someone entirely at peace in the presence of grief. He glanced toward the fresh grave, the yellow flower resting atop it, then back to her tear-streaked face. "You’ve honoured them well," he murmured, voice like a hush of leaves in autumn. He didn’t offer platitudes or promises. He simply sat with her, with all the weight of her longing, as if he had all the time in the world. Because for him—he did.
"Knowing what you do about the difficulties of returning to this world after having been taken from it...that Shii has lived longer in my realm now than in yours, you would really call them back to you?"
