Lovis
I am made of
Memories
Her eyes danced with a gentle joy; one that inspired his own features to answer in-same, "You are much too kind." He stretched and basked in her warmth. Some beings were wreathed in the garlands of summer no matter what season touched them. Some were spun of golden, glimmering, sunlight that held strong even as dusk fell. Cerridwen was certainly one of such creatures. The first light of day must seek her out, eager to feel her touch. Lovis quietly mulled over the quiet magic of a warm heart and all that it drew in. He wondered what it would be to allow himself to be enveloped by the heart of another.
To have such a thought woke and set to stirring an inner, quivering, cautious voice that fretfully whispered to him. It pleaded with him. It cried that he should go. Go before the woman did take and swallow a bit of him! Leave; before a fondness took root within himself for her.
Too easily would he become attached. Never could Lovis bring himself to prune affections that he inadvertently grew. No. The gardens he grew within himself for those that he cared for were wild and uncontained. However too quickly time would pass. An inevitable pattern that he could not allow himself to be broken by. Not anymore. Already he tended to too many gardens without their muse.
For so long now he had distanced himself from other beings. He was much too quick to grow attached. There was nothing about his time with Cerridwyn that led him to believe he should change how he lived. Fleeting moments such as these would never outweigh the mourning he would someday have to endure.
To that crippled voice Lovis nearly listened. He had widened the distance between them with intent of bidding her farewell. He had thought to usher her home so that the sun would not fall from her. However whenever Cerridwen spoke of her daughter she pulled the man back in. Back to her. He put to rest the anxious voice within him with promises of doing no more than escorting her once she was ready to leave his side. It would be a repayment to her for her kind company. Lovis would see her home safe. To do any different would be dishonorable. Even the voice within him agreed in defeat.
"Yes." It is a young, inexperienced, fellow that dreams of crafting himself as a dashing man; for his lady chosen. A father is a man made over for the world. He crafts the world around himself so that he might leave something more vibrant for his children. The world is in turn drained of color for a parent who has lost a child.
"Eden?" He tasted the name. It rolled splendidly from his tongue. "Lovely." He was happy to direct conversation from himself. Happy to allow himself a moment of living through the tales of another. Lovis would listen quietly to all that she might divulge. He would clutch to what she told. He would recount them to himself whenever his own loneliness grew too great. So much brighter was her talk of flesh and kin that still drew breath, "Does she travel with you today? Or perhaps her sire?" With such talk came the hope of the future. He wondered at her present too.
@Cerridwen here we freaking go. Only five years later.
