Light that once gleaned within gilded pools of sunlight had long since dissolved and with it, the joviality and gentle simper that most often assumed had remained ever permanently glued to her face. Dark circles had taken permanent residency beneath dulled golden – hinted silver eyes. The cemetery seemed to be growing in occupancy as of late. The actions and consequences of war proved its place even here. Gentle pleas went ignored for her to return to a home that was never hers but a brief, a moment of residency. They had just lost their son – and it felt more than selfish to continue to linger longer when the two parents had to endure the same agony and anguish she had when faced with burying not just her son but her husband soon after. They deserved their privacy, their time to mourn and to embrace one another. Her home remained untouched since the cinders of magic had claimed it. The flames forged by those of jealous and indignant regard and now, she’d lost a friend deemed close enough to be considered family had also been ripped away from her life. Held within her hand, she clung desperately to the oddly shaped toy that her son had once coveted and cherished. “Coen,” she whispers gently, “Please send my warmest regards to my husband.” She dressed the headstone with new flowers in bloom. “Tell my son how much I love him, embrace him if you will,” a tear gingerly rolled down her flushed cheeks, thought to have long since dried. “I hope peace has found you, dear friend..” She placed the plush toy before her late sons tombstone, as she sat leaned against her husbands’ and drew her cloak closer to her person as the autumn winds threatened the chill of winter just ‘round the corner. I do not know what crimes I have committed to be forced to endure this continuous pain, to have those I love dearly stripped away from me. The tears began to roll down her cheeks more as a palm swept against the earth for a moment,  only for the tendrils of magic to coax small saplings into blooming assorted flowers that dressed all three stones. Sleep inevitably soon came shortly after where the young widow could before slumped against one of the three tombstones.

Jahi

Here's some music to go with the vibe uwu

Time had crept slowly by following the burial, duties carried out as if nothing had transpired moons prior and yet recollection was a constant plague upon the mind. Scenery something unable to be forgotten when it replayed the fate of such a fallen brother. He knew this was something he should talk with one of the clergy about and if not they then another who may be able to ease the mind, assuage maddening thoughts to banish ever swirling imagery which haunted. Yet for now a tongue remained still, it was not their burden to carry; besides there was still much to be done. Ensure the memory of another lived on through more than just his parents.

Ívarr knew them to be attendant. Frequenting their son’s resting place whenever possible to keep it tidy, adorned with favored flora and free of the willows sheding branches. However, even holding this knowledge would never stop his own paces from straying. The faint thump of boots barely audible as he drifted along crafted pathways, hardly slowing until he came upon that familiar sight. Upturned earth still fresh in comparison to what lay around it - his far from the only newly anointed grave - but it was the only he visited now. For even if the man could no longer be near him, it was to he sins had always been confessed.

That voice a guidance leaned upon perhaps too many times and yet it had once offered reassurances. Now it was up to another. The snowy hound’s own now a comfort to those who grieved, to all who had been lost, and Coenwulf would be no different. Fingers brushed away fallen foliage with a breath whispered upon his lips, a murmured prayer meant only for he. Lyrics feather light, spoken softly that even any who passed him by would not deceive its meaning. It wasn’t for them to know. He knew a message would be carried into the afterlife and sing out for those ears alone.

Upon a final utterance, electric gaze turned toward the fading twilight. No matter how one may wish to remain a moment longer, he could not linger here. The dying light foretold of his return to the cathedral yet as he drifts from the shrouded embrace of willows, a far different sight greets him amidst the distance tombstones. One in the form of a fallen figure slumped gracelessly alongside two carved stones, draping that veiled frame over top one of them. Pang of alarm gripped him, while there was no scent of blood dressing her that did not bid away the possibility of poisons or something more untoward with a frame cast aside upon dying breath.

However, worries steadily waned as he drew nearer, nothing more than a gentle breath filling his ears. A peaceful rest without the rasp of death clinging to each exhale. Nothing to suggest even a trace of foul play against her in the moments… but she could not stay here. Quiet steps guided him forth toward one unknown yet as he came alongside her there came recognition in her perfumes, in the partially hidden contours of her visage. Unspoken concern tugged at the corner of his lips and brought piercing blue to lightly narrow, masking but a portion of all which brewed beneath the surface. Even still he does not reach for her. Merely a voice calling out in gentled tone, hoping to wake her without alarm, “Lady Andante, the cemetery is hardly a becoming place for the living to slumber.”

Not only was it not particularly safe to do so some may even find it as a sign of disrespect to all else who had been lain to rest. While she may know who lay beneath these two headstones - and with but a glance to the names etched in stone, so too did he - this was not proper. A near silent breath fled his lungs before all focus turned back to the silvery haired woman in offerance despite her likely groggy state, “If you are in need of a place to rest you know the church’s doors are always open. It is far safer than out here.” Many may not find comfort in bedding beneath the roof of those devout; yet to he, it was safer than any tavern bed and especially more so than nesting beneath nature’s light.

It was hardly a comfortable place to drift. Not that she had any intentions of doing so, for her former nights were spent wrought in a maddening disbelief, confusion and hurt. Loss was proving to not bode well with the schoolteacher. Sleep hadn’t come to comfort her then if even only brief but instead crept upon her while finding a desperate means of solace when visiting those long departed. The wind was a gentle tease, combing away the loose strands of silver and lilac that managed to escape the bindings of ribbon that held the mess of waves of her hair. Even in her slumber did sorrow etch its way upon delicate features. Salt dried upon her cheeks from the tears that shed. Lady Andante, There was a gentleness the summons that would carefully tug her attention in a slow wake. … the cemetery is hardly a becoming place for the living to slumber. Initially, there was the trickle of confusion as silver and gold-flecked sights would slowly pry themselves open because of course why would seek refuge within the cemetery? “Sir Varangr?” Her voice cracked in the grogginess as she woke. What time was it she wondered? Judging by the waning sun, dusk was stringing along the approaching night. The man before her was one she only knew of in passing when volunteering with Mrs. Luíseach to feed the hungry or visiting the orphanage after the school day came to its close. There were the occasional brief greetings and friendly smiles otherwise she did not wish to impede upon the paladins’ duties. If you are in need of a place to rest you know the church’s doors are always open. It is far safer than out here. This was where the realization finally struck her. Her cheeks reddened so quickly as humility forced her gaze down unable to look the man directly. “O-oh how foolish of me,” came a breathy gasp as she clumsily recollected herself. Sonata could not bring herself to reside at the church no matter how many pleaded with her to do so since the passing of her husband. She’d remain at her home but that had been burned to ashes by those of jealous and greed when whispers gossiped of the restoration of both her school and the orphanage that had been long overdue for repairs. “No I – I have arrangements elsewhere.” Came her hurried voice in a humiliated stammer. Which was not the home that was offered before Coens departure for she could not linger in the home where a mother and father mourned their departed son. She would merely return to her school once again, make due with the cramped loft. Brushing herself off from any foliage that may have clung to her, Sonata searched for her composure. “My apologies… sir,” she sounded defeated as if he’d already scolded her despite that no such words left his breath – yet. “I do not recall falling asleep I was just…” downtrodden gaze would merely cast towards the tended graves.

Jahi

Luckily it took no more than gentled tone to bring this woman to wake. Her confusion evident in the ways tired eyes searched his visage and the croak of a voice not used to speaking filled the air. Bidding a light breath of laughter to break the smile carefully held against his lips, “That would be me, though just Ívarr is fine.” Father if she truly wished to retain a semblance of formality between them though it was hardly necessary. Yet hardly would he deny a shared utterance of respect, she could address him as she wished. He would not press the issue especially now as she appeared to take in her surroundings only to immediately fluster.

Those cheeks carrying an unmistakable burn of shame as it accompanied a downcast gaze, refusing to behold one who had discovered amidst the graves. Whatever raced through her collecting thoughts would be given time to settle as hands momentarily folded behind his back. Crown softly tilting as he observed her in silence, watchful for any sign that previous judgments of wellbeing had been false. However, other than the kick drum beat of a fluttering heart and embarrassed stammering, there came nothing else. Only when there came clarity did his offerance fall though it was one swiftly denied.

Passing shock, more akin to curiosity, washed over him yet it hardly altered his tone, “Oh? Then would you like me to walk you there?” Where ever her arrangements lay surely they still rested within the city limits. Even if it did not then this could be seen as reason enough for delay should any worriers at the church ask of him. While there was certainty this woman could fend for herself, it was not in the paladin’s nature to simply let her wander alone into the encroaching night. Whether it had been man or child, god or monster; his word would not have changed. Yet in these moments they were meant just for her.

Ears swiveling toward her stuttering phrase, offering forth excuses, those she refused to finish as eyes drifted toward the fallen who shared her last name. So he would, “Visiting with the departed?” The very same duty he’d been tending to even if the grave he visited rested in another section of these sprawling grounds. Thinking of it brought a touch of sadness to lace his gaze though a smile never faltered, it remained a fixed grace against his lips, “You have nothing to apologize for my lady. The hour is late and it is clear much weighs on your mind.”

Dark stains beneath her eyes foretold of little sleep, tear stricken cheeks gave way to unrestrained grief; now embarrassment as still they colored in unfading humiliations all while stumbling over her words. Abruptly righting herself to sweep away any dirt that may have clung to both skin and cloth, “Do you wish to speak of it? Remove even just a piece of this burden from your soul?” While she may have declined a stay within the church walls it did not mean a hound could not provide an ear to listen. Even if it only lasted during a hopeful journey from the reaches of these resting grounds.

Surely he must think of me a fool, Her conscious scorning her before any other could dare pass such judgement for she knew better. She held high regards for such a sanctuary where the parted lay in their eternal rest. Her son, her husband and now a dear friend lay among those here who had long since passed. Her face reddened with humility in the presence of the paladin as confusion beheld her tongue. That would be me, though just Ívarr is fine. Right hand would comb through the mess of her curls before sweeping down and rest against her cheek as she contemplated dropping the formalities. Her mind was clearly elsewhere once the realization struck her that she’d unintentionally took rest far too long as the sun was still present the last she could recall. The birds did not trill their afternoon songs but instead the evening cicadas and bell crickets chimed harmoniously with the gentle coo of a owls hoot. Sunshine gaze had since dulled into a lifeless silver still unable to face the man directly yet with the overwhelm of shame and the cocktail of emotions that stirred within her chest. A tell she could never hide as her eyes usually shined with a brilliant golden hue when her mood was in high spirits. The suggestion of seeking refuge within the church was one she could not bring herself to encroach upon. Not because she was not a woman of faith, but the idea upon the grounds at this time was one she could not bravely face since Coen’s burial. No matter how many times the nuns would insist upon her stay, she could not give them that shameless victory either. Oh? Then would you like me to walk you there? She wanted to deny his offer to allow him to carry on about his way and return to whatever, wherever he wished to be. “I will not deny the company.” Perhaps it was the fact that she did not wish to be lonely for once even if but for a short time. “But I do not wish to be a hindrance upon your time,” Sonata was never one to pester another soul for her sake. She was never one to seek aide even if it was necessary. She would have given birth on her own if it were not for Christoph’s protests and diligence to seek a midwife in the early hours of sunlight. She would have held a private funeral for her husband if it were not for the fact that he served the king once upon a time just as she would have remained living within the small loft of her school if it were not for Coenwulf to digress when she answered the door black and blue. Visiting the departed? She felt her jaw tighten at Ívarrs words for it only affirmed the reality. His words stung, even if unintentional. You have nothing to apologize for my lady. The hour is late and it is clear much weighs on your mind. “Yeah,” she confirmed his speculation. Her mind felt heavier than the beams that supported a roof or the many stacks of books she meticulously put away once the bookshelves were finally crafted. Do you wish to speak of it? Remove even just a piece of this burden from your soul? Sonata was quiet for a moment as she beheld his words. “I think I do but…” Again, her jaw would tighten, tension knotting the pit of her stomach. “It feels challenging while the same I feel so selfish in wishing to do so.” Finally, her dispirited gaze would lift, finding the cerulean ocean of his own only for hers to falter again.

Jahi

For the longest time she refused to look at him as all which swam through her mind brought color to her cheeks. Bid them to burn unending alongside a fluttering heartbeat but he could wait for even a passing comfort to fall over her. Patience something always something clung to, practiced, over the years. Simply being present offered opportunities that those who rushed by would no doubt miss. It gave a chance to observe each figure that drifted from view, perceive the struggles so many faced. Though in these moments there was only she. One distraught, a woman filled with shame over what was no doubt an accident.

Attentions briefly drifted over the tombs resting just past her once more, those partially obscured by that fretting frame. Yet from the corner of his vision the paladin captured the ways fingers raked through tangled tresses. Pushing it from concealing her countenance from view and further giving way to the wild streaks staining her cheeks. Though in the end standing as a sentinel would pay off as an offer lay accepted but it was not without putting herself down in the process. Phrasing which coaxed a soft sigh from his lips, “None could be a hindrance upon me.” At least he had yet to find a soul so grating, so intolerable that he simply had to escape their company.

Looking to Lady Andante now, Ívarr doubted she would be prove to be such a being, “It would be my honor to provide even momentary companionship.” However, despite it all, it would be she who needed to take the lead. Give way to where she currently dwelt for the leopard marked hound did not hold such information. If she did not wish to lead then even just a vague signal in the direction of where she needed to travel would be enough to start this journey. Forge a path home while hopefully lessening the weight upon her soul.

Vibrant gaze never left her now, pointed ears swiveling back as a crown slowly tilted yet there was no judgment behind his eyes. “Why would it be selfish to alleviate one’s woes? To share the burden with another lightens the load you carry, the same principle applies to what we harbor within ourselves. It is human nature to seek understanding.” No matter what fate had lain out for them on an unseen path of life. Stepping closer a hand unclasped from behind his back, moving before him as he offered it to her. A grip to help one to stand, “But for now, let us leave the dead to rest. They will await us at morning’s light.”

None here could be foreseen as wishing harm upon their visitors. Those who prowled the night, however, where an entirely different story and it where such beings the priest hoped to evade beneath the moonlight.

His sigh drew her gaze upward briefly as words befell his lips. One of which she could not decipher out of pity, a heralded role, or Genuity. Nevertheless, Sonata offered the priest a gentle albeit tired smile of thanks. In her loneliness did she deny the company of others for their words of condolence merely weighed heavier and heavier upon her bosom. They meant well, of course, but did they truly feel the ache as she or the Luíseach family? It would be my honor to provide even momentary companionship. His offer pressed to which Sonata merely nodded. “You have my thanks, s—I-I mean Ívarr.” she smiled, cheeks flushing into a lighter hue, for the lacking formalities felt almost wrong to speak. Disrespectful, even she considered for she held the paladin with praising regard. So too did she feel the sting of guilt fester as she dare so willingly confess an ailing heart. Why would it be selfish to alleviate one’s woes? To share the burden with another lightens the load you carry, She felt her lip curl inward as hands clutched the skirt of her garb. He wasn’t wrong as she often spoke similar to her students should any of them be plagued with despair. …the same principle applies to what we harbor within ourselves. It is human nature to seek understanding. A hand was extended to which drew her to pause in her thoughts. Calculating the gesture caused her gaze to follow along his forearm and find Ívarrs patience. But for now, let us leave the dead to rest. They will await us at morning’s light. Sonata didn’t know why she hesitated at first, but she did inevitably take the paladin’s hand and take lead to her destination. She walked next to him, quiet in the beginning. “While I have witnessed the losses of many a-friend, Coen’s seems to be the hardest since my husband’s passing.” She admitted meekly. “It is as if the moment the calm settles, cruelty finds my doorstep.” A sigh escaped her. “I have lost my family, my home, and what little friends I have managed, are all being stripped away from me.”

Jahi

Warm smile held its place against the hound’s lips as pressure settled first upon his palm. A presence gradually shifting as Ívarr allowed his own arm to drift into a position deemed more proper, looping loosely about Sonata’s own. A mild act of chivalry all to keep her near should anything untoward arise on this likely brief walk. Though, at first, it seemed this may be a journey made in silence. Each left to nothing more than their own swirling thoughts and the gentle comfort of glowing moonlight yet the quiet echo of footfalls against cobbles lay broken as her voice finally broke through. Drawing the brilliance of that crystalline gaze to downtrodden features.

Ears swiveling with an obvious intent to listen, however, at the mention of Coen’s name there came a subtly in how they drooped. A slow steading breath filling his lungs though he would not interrupt. While it was known both he and the fallen knight’s famiyl grieved Coen’s passing, the priest had not anticipated one once sprawled across the dual graves of her own lost to be somehow involved in this shared sorrow. And no matter how swirling notions may threaten to place a softened strain amidst his own vocals, Ívarr could not leave her in silence.

“Coen… Ser Luíseach will be greatly missed. Duty, family, doing well by others; all were always held at the forefront of his mind,” no matter what it may cost him. Acts any brother or sister of the church should be honored to uphold and yet this task had unfortunately proven to be his last. “While a physical presence may be gone he will live on in memories,” he would always be remembered by the order, the church he served. Never would he flee the hearts of those who’d lost their only son nor any who had the pleasure of calling him friend. In these moments, the slow cant of pointed ears were all which betrayed the man’s thoughts.

“It is saddening to hear so much has befallen you Lady Andante. May each struggle serve as a testament to your strength,” the divines will followed many paths, brought forth both joy and hardships. Stirred forth unasked questions as to why some need suffer more than others but he dared not question their ways. Only follow their teachings, those which dripped from his tongue even now as a free hand briefly fell over his chest like a vow, “Even in the darkest shadow there is light, while it may be hard to find that glimmer of hope you mustn’t let it fade.” Over time woulds would heal even if their scars remained forever more.

Allowing a hand to fall back to his side dimmed sights briefly flickered to the night around them before returning to the listless woman, “Nothing will fill the void left behind. At least not in the same ways as what was lost, this I know well.” From the confessions and hopes of solace which so often graced his ears, from all he himself had experienced over a lifetime of service. “Yet to leave everything bottled up harms the soul and fractures the mind. With all seemingly set against you, who is it you turn to my lady?” Other than he in only these fleeting moments. Surely one such as she held many more friends than she imagined. A trusted shoulder to lean on when she needed it most… if not then there was but one decision to be made.

One hand rested gently near the bend of his arm, the other brushed against digits and clothed bicep of the paladin as their quiet amble pulled them away from those of eternal rest. Golden sights remained painted in sterling silver, a feat that eluded her. It made implying her wellbeing difficult should one ask. She could say otherwise but eyes remained ever true despite words that may fall from gentled lips. In this moment, hardly any of it mattered for her demeanor remained downtrodden and her emotions in a negative spiral. Sonata felt as though she were drowning, unable to surface. Coen… Ser Luíseach will be greatly missed. Her hold upon Ívarrs arm pressed as fingers curled lightly as if such words that touched her lips caused her to flinch. Duty, family, doing well by others; all were always held at the forefront of his mind, Sonata was quiet, her gaze remained upon the cobblestone path that the pair trekked. He spoke words that she had heard time and time again, though could not bring herself to be cross for there was no wrong that which he spoke. It would be hypocritical of her, for she, herself had shared similar messages once upon a time to grieving kin. What wicked humor it was, to practice what one preached? A bitter chuckle escaped her in his mentions of strength. Sonata meant to hold back such retort and merely cleared her throat as rose painted her ears with humility. even in the darkest shadow there is light, while it may be hard to find that glimmer of hope, you mustn’t let it fade. Her gaze narrowed slightly as her head would cant to the side. Silver and lilac curls would sweep against her cheek. “Difficult indeed.” she murmured in a lackluster sigh. Freed hand would gently pat against his arm following his own brief confessed assurance. One could only fathom what the man witnessed on the daily. Sonata pondered if her woes were but mere fractions to his own yet it only tugged her heart more as the guilt threatened to fester. …. With all seemingly set against you, who is it you turn to my lady? Sonata’s steps slowed their halt as the question struck her by surprise. Her jaw and shoulders tightened and her rested hold upon his arm seemed to cling as if an unforeseen fear threatened her. “I do not wish to be admonished with judgement, nor do I wish to hinder a budding friendship, Sir Ívarr.” She began quietly, her words laced with hesitation. “If not already apparent, I’ve never been a woman of faith and I’ve little desire to change that.” Her hand would unhook from his arm, falling away to her side, as the other would rest anxiously against her bicep. “Pray I do respect your beliefs but they are not mine.” There was a silence as a passing breeze gently caressed between them in the evening hour upon the streets. “Though I offer aide where I am able at the orphanage and even aiding Mrs. Luíseach with delivering food among the church, the sisters still gossip of my status. Not… that it should bother me, for what matter is it but my own?” She bit the inside of her cheek, it was like salt being added to a fresh wound over and over again. “Tis rather difficult to seek respite in those who claim themselves to be faithful when they themselves do not practice what they claim to follow something of that which cannot be seen...” Sonata shook her head, “…. I digress, and mean no ill regard towards your comrades.. I just…” She felt the well of tears begin to form once more that she’d assumed to be long dried. “There is none I turn to,” the glow of moonlight caught the droplets of tears that began to weep from her sterling gaze. “I cannot bring myself to be a burden to others, nor do I wish to remain the topic of idle gossip. Only myself is whom I turn upon and it is a rather lonesome endeavor, I do admit.” Emotions tipped, like an overflowing well as she cried. “I—my sincerest apologies, Ívarr, I do not mean to act so unseemly.” Desperately she would try to wipe the flow of tears failing to find her composure.

Jahi

Pointed ears flicked though he would make no remark toward the short huff which fled her lips nor the way her features lay heavier colored upon his next glance. Whether she chose to believe in those words or not would be up to her, however, within the paladin’s eyes carrying on after tragedy was a testament of strength. It would be so easy to throw it all away and lay waste to the life granted, to one so many continued to live. If holding on was not a matter of strength then Ívarr knew not what was. Soon enough it was his turn to sigh, a slow steadying sound as her grip tightened about his arm. He almost thought to bring a free hand to pat against her own in silent reassurance and yet found pause as she unwound.

Crystalline gaze meet her own, refractions of unspoken confusion swimming within the electric sea as she spoke of admonishment. He was not here to do such a thing not to bid her smitten by holy retribution for not holding the faith as dearly as he. It mattered not if vows were shared, those spoken with did not have to believe in the radiant divine nor seek to bathe in their light. All that mattered was that he followed the path set before him for he was but a servant to them. A vessel to spread their teachings and allow their voice to be heard, yet he would never force another to follow what they themselves did not believe.

Again a hand rise, laying over his heart as eyes closed in a short bow; apologetic before the priest would refocus upon her visage. “Apologies my lady, I am a creature of habit but I did not mean it as a manner of faith. One can turn to their divine, a friend, or merely someone standing right before them,” a presence more tangible to the masses. A physical sensation even if it sat behind the veils of confessed privacies. “So fear not Lady Andante, I am not here to try converting you,” though such promises would do little to change the way he spoke. Such a tongue only natural, “Their eyes see but a single soul this night, between the two of us, only I shall face whatever judgments lie in store beneath their will. You will hear none from me.” Nor from the very looming ones above.

Their voice would not reach her. Their piercing gaze would not find her.

Yet it seemed others may have. Admittance which brought the paladin’s own eyes to narrow as he fought the desire to openly frown no matter how it tinted his tone, “They know better than to gossip and spread falsities.” Especially beneath sanctuary’s roof where their eyes and reaching senses were ever present, “Your status, whatever it may be, is not of their concern nor is it the church’s business. I will speak with them come morning. It is a grave offense to spread rumors and whisper of those who are meant to be able to find solace and comfort within the cathedral.”

Punishable in ways unimaginable should the divine’s favor falter from the ill-devout, deny their requests for forgiveness from their sins. Not only this but it painted all within in an unappealing light, cast unsavory attitudes toward them and any associated with the church as a whole. It portrayed them as no different than the indulgences of the wicked and disorderly, of those who plundered and coerced. It simply wasn’t right. While Ívarr had not heard the sisters’ wagging tongues for himself it was something he needed to check in on. Yet he could not imagine who.

If nothing else perhaps it were those of fresher blood, uneducated in the ways of those who served the blessed and chose to reside beneath their radiant gaze. It was always troublesome to weed out the ill-suited from the very start until those who claimed to be devout so easily shattered their bonds. Forsook the path they tread beneath and abandoned the structure and harmony it granted their lives. In the end, it was not up to he who the divine cast their eyes upon… though they would always make it known who could not stay or required additional instruction. Though no matter all that lay shrouded in mystery, he found comfort in what he did know. The warmth he found in their light.

The supposed sisters would be dealt with, bid to seek forgiveness and face reprimand. Words that would be given to all in hopes of lessening the blow it may deal, allow them to keep some semblance of privacy to their sinful affairs lest they see repentance as his door. However, in the given moment, none of that mattered now as expression softened with a lightened sigh. Gaze fixing upon her and the ways tears trickled down her cheeks. Her frustration and embarrassment over one’s natural expression of self stirred another slow breath from his lungs.

Fingers delving into a breast pocket to free a pristine cloth, “Emotions and allowing them to be expressed is hardly unseemly my lady. At a young age we are often taught it is a sign of weakness but it is merely part of being alive. There is neither weakness nor need to apologize for tears or in seeking help, those who are true would never see it as a burden to assist when they are needed most. Loneliness eats away at you. Leaves one with no thoughts but their own and when that voice seeks only to beat them down they are thrown into a spiraling abyss. Finding it harder and harder to crawl free.”

While Ívarr nearly thought to brush the silken cloth to her skin, to wipe away what she so furiously swiped at; he held on to a sense of boundaries as bandaged limb extended it toward her in silent offer. Hovering close in his hesitance to overstep, easily within reach even should she end up not taking it. Though it would be up to touch to say if it was accepted for eyes lingered upon those stricken features, “I have already said it once before but speaking of what weighs on the mind only helps to lighten the load. Seeking help when it is needed most will never make you a burden. It is not an endeavor one needs to fear.”