[Absurdly, it hadn't occurred to him the remains might all be together, a jumble of bodies impossible to distinguish. He remembers suddenly the knife-glint of anger, the radiance of it, so close, the fist on his breastbone. They had to reconstruct most of her skull. Did you know that? It hadn't occurred to him then, either, and the way it does now—
Leander could run his fingers through ash and bone for weeks, months, for the rest of his life, and never find him again. Nothing left to reconstruct. He will never be brought back to Nevarra, to be arranged, to be treated with gentle reverence, the way he's meant to be. He will never cross the Veil.
Softly,]
Later tonight—closer to dawn than dusk. Come up to his room. I'll be waiting there for you.
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Leander could run his fingers through ash and bone for weeks, months, for the rest of his life, and never find him again. Nothing left to reconstruct.
He will never be brought back to Nevarra, to be arranged, to be treated with gentle reverence, the way he's meant to be.
He will never cross the Veil.
Softly,]
Later tonight—closer to dawn than dusk. Come up to his room. I'll be waiting there for you.