The ground had looked hard with late frost when he had begun to dig, but it had parted with surprising ease beneath the tip of his shovel, light and malleable instead of clumpy and unwieldy as he had first expected it to be. It was almost like it was moving for him, but that was only wishful thinking, right? Still, it made the task of turning the fresh new plots of earth over go more smoothly than he had expected, and before long he had scraped aside the ashen dirt of the fields and was ready to replace it with the thick black soil of the Glade.
He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, leaving a smear of dirt behind from his sleeve as he turned back to his wagon--
And stopped as he saw a familiar form walking past, cold as the morning dew and distant as the last star at sunrise, slim and proud and silent as she deliberately ignored him and the memory of her fallen guildmate. He watched her walk by, stunned to silence as she gave not so much as a nod of acknowledgment, seemingly refusing to even look in his direction, and he drew in a choked breath as he saw the direction she was going.
To Safrin.
The goddess who had so recently made him choose between those he loved... revealing his hypocrisy for what it was. He had chosen Rory over Amalia then, not once but several times, and now Safrin's Shield would not even grant him a greeting in passage. He knew he deserved it, deserved her anger and disdain for his weakness, but still it hurt to see her display it so openly. Had Safrin told her of what he had done? Not content to simply humble him in his own mind but to tear away the anchors he had set his heart to?
Isuma trilled in concern as he sank slowly to his knees, watching Amalia pass in stunned, wide-eyed silence, his expression stricken. Around him, unheeded, the herbs of Isla's memorial garden, young and just beginning to grow again, stretched leaves and fronds towards him, drawn by the strong emotions that moved in his breast like a tide pulled after the departing moon.
Amalia... her name whispered through the Attuned bond, but he could not remember the last time she had heard him there.
He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, leaving a smear of dirt behind from his sleeve as he turned back to his wagon--
And stopped as he saw a familiar form walking past, cold as the morning dew and distant as the last star at sunrise, slim and proud and silent as she deliberately ignored him and the memory of her fallen guildmate. He watched her walk by, stunned to silence as she gave not so much as a nod of acknowledgment, seemingly refusing to even look in his direction, and he drew in a choked breath as he saw the direction she was going.
To Safrin.
The goddess who had so recently made him choose between those he loved... revealing his hypocrisy for what it was. He had chosen Rory over Amalia then, not once but several times, and now Safrin's Shield would not even grant him a greeting in passage. He knew he deserved it, deserved her anger and disdain for his weakness, but still it hurt to see her display it so openly. Had Safrin told her of what he had done? Not content to simply humble him in his own mind but to tear away the anchors he had set his heart to?
Isuma trilled in concern as he sank slowly to his knees, watching Amalia pass in stunned, wide-eyed silence, his expression stricken. Around him, unheeded, the herbs of Isla's memorial garden, young and just beginning to grow again, stretched leaves and fronds towards him, drawn by the strong emotions that moved in his breast like a tide pulled after the departing moon.
Amalia... her name whispered through the Attuned bond, but he could not remember the last time she had heard him there.
