She had briefly caught me off guard, reminding me of my constant lonliness, of which I had started to answer.. before realizing the snare. For I am hardly alone. Astarté is my constant companion.. aside from the Spirit whose name I do not speak in Bryony's hearing.
"She died just a little over twenty-five years ago."

"Do you honestly prefer the cat's company to someone who can talk back, smile.. cook you dinner?"
"I must say.. I've not ever given it much thought. Astarté has taken the bitterness from my wife's death. But it is Alexandra whom I revere. Not the cat."
"You speak of her with love in your voice. You must miss her very much."
I shall not admit this flaw to her, lest in so doing she spin her wiles about me and ensnare me into confessions and longings that are best left forgotten. In silence, I left her side on the path and walked far ahead of her, giving Bryony little to no opportunity to catch up to me again. Not for several hours until we had broken pace for a lunch of raw onions and apples.
Labels: Bryony, Bryony de Rose, Druid, Necromancer, Storyteller's Triquetra, The Triquetra, Triquetra, Vale, Vale of the Enclave, Warlock, Warrick, Warrick Erebus
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