But the story is this: she'll destroy with her sweet kiss.

Sometimes, more often than Quicksilver cared to admit, he would hope to lose himself for good.

On returning home after the trauma of severing ties with his Northern company, the druid had sunk into his bed and entered a deep and dreamless slumber. Both his mind and body had needed the rest, he realised on rousing to a new day after those long hours - it was rare for him to wake after dawn, after all.

And on that first morning after his world collapsed, he could only wonder one thing: what now?

He didn't have the answer to that. Not yet. Perhaps, not ever.

The druid carried on as normal by picking his way along Vanderfell's outskirts to strengthen the border with scent, eager for routine. He hunted for @Ira who he understood would whelp in the near future, and wondered if she felt apprehensive about what was to come. With his Alphess he'd linger for a time and make small-talk if she'd allow before the need for solitude forced him to excuse himself.

Skelmir's Pass brought him no comfort, he found. The maze was a lonely place, and with Winter's approach the colour seemed to slowly drain from its flora. Most that he found had withered, claimed by frost, but the unusual sight of plucked flowers bundled along the path brought his ears forward in curiosity.

The hint of a smile, the first he didn't have to force, bloomed on his muzzle.

He didn't think much of it, really, that first time, but each gathering Quicksilver found thereafter made him wonder. Only when he caught sight of one particular flower with delicate blue petals did the puzzle pieces fall into place.

@Reiko had been there. She had done this, as a quiet reminder that she wasn't ready to let go.

The sterling wolf took the stem delicately between his teeth, carrying it with great care along the path he'd come to return it to his cache. There, he would dry it to be preserved - so that he might remember, if anything.


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