asterion,
His initial horror subsides when her reaction doesn’t match it, but the concern in his features doesn’t go away. She’s fine, Corr says, and turns to the bird, which Asterion watches flop grotesquely, slipping so that it sits crooked on the mare’s back.
Clearly, the women is unwilling - perhaps unable - to process whatever has happened. The bay pities the others she mentioned, who must surely have felt the same distress that he does now, and undergone the same struggle: to press the issue and risk causing distress, possibly anger, or to let it go. One of his ears flicks at the buzz of a fly; the sound make him a little nauseated.
For now, he says nothing, but he doesn’t try to fake an expression that hides his worry. It feels wrong to meet her eyes, to studiously ignore the sad little sack of bones and feathers on her back. Only in trying to does he think of his own, still missing, companion - and that’s enough to convince him to say something, only she’s already speaking again.
After seeing Hasta, it does not surprise him that Corrdelia has left the Dusk Court. He tries not to wonder if this might not have happened if he had stayed, or she had - that line of thought was a long road ending only in darkness.
“Marisol knows,” he says, and saying her name is somehow like a bruise. “A change of scenery sounds nice. I’ve never had the chance to explore the courts as I would have liked…Dawn is very beautiful.”
Oh, he’d like to avoid the elephant in the room, but every time he catches a glimpse of the crow his heart lurches. Softly, with difficulty - for he has not spoken of her since returning - he says, “I haven’t seen Cirrus since I came back. Did you ever, before you left Terrastella?” It occurs to him that she likely would have no idea, as the gull looked the same as any other, but if it opened a conversation about the crow then it would be worth the little mingling of guilt, hope and heartache that he feels when he thinks of Cirrus.
Tho' much is taken, much abides;
@Corrdelia
