Her thanks was a ray of morning light through the dark curtains that had come to shroud their friendship, a reminder that exhaustion and grief were not forever, however dark they could make the day. His expression softened, a pulse of quiet warmth in the Attuned bond as he nodded. Her apology, though, had him quirking a wry smile again as Isuma chirruped quietly at them. "Me too," he said, stroking her back while she stretched beside Amalia.
Neither of them were what the other wanted, perhaps, neither of them perfect paragons of virtue; but they were both human - or at least, he was now - and they both tried to serve the old gods as best they could. "We can take turns," he said with that smile still holding a tired humor. "Visiting each other, when it all gets to be too much." He hesitated, remembering something he had forgotten in the intervening year, gifts he had once given to those close to him. Amalia's had been waiting for the right moment... one that had never arrived. It would never arrive, he realized belatedly. There would always be something, some new tragedy or disaster or misunderstanding.
He exhaled, smile fading as he reclaimed his hands, folding them together as he plucked at the shimmering strings of magic in his soul. Bronze and green, twisting together to create something from nothing, drawing on the nearby geology as metal yet eluded him. Not silver, then, but stone: alabaster tipped with blues, small enough to hang from a pendant or bracelet with a loop on the back for a small chain or thong. He smiled shyly as he held his hands out to her, opening them to reveal the small gryphon charm in Isuma's colors while the muse herself stood up to inspect it, resting her foreclaws on his arm while she sniffed at the little likeness.
"A little friend to keep you company between your other visitors," he explained as Isuma decreed it acceptable and picked it up by the loop, trying to hop into Amalia's lap to proudly present her with the little charm as if she had been the one to make it.
Neither of them were what the other wanted, perhaps, neither of them perfect paragons of virtue; but they were both human - or at least, he was now - and they both tried to serve the old gods as best they could. "We can take turns," he said with that smile still holding a tired humor. "Visiting each other, when it all gets to be too much." He hesitated, remembering something he had forgotten in the intervening year, gifts he had once given to those close to him. Amalia's had been waiting for the right moment... one that had never arrived. It would never arrive, he realized belatedly. There would always be something, some new tragedy or disaster or misunderstanding.
He exhaled, smile fading as he reclaimed his hands, folding them together as he plucked at the shimmering strings of magic in his soul. Bronze and green, twisting together to create something from nothing, drawing on the nearby geology as metal yet eluded him. Not silver, then, but stone: alabaster tipped with blues, small enough to hang from a pendant or bracelet with a loop on the back for a small chain or thong. He smiled shyly as he held his hands out to her, opening them to reveal the small gryphon charm in Isuma's colors while the muse herself stood up to inspect it, resting her foreclaws on his arm while she sniffed at the little likeness.
"A little friend to keep you company between your other visitors," he explained as Isuma decreed it acceptable and picked it up by the loop, trying to hop into Amalia's lap to proudly present her with the little charm as if she had been the one to make it.
