The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.
She is barely restrained and it speaks to her lack of control over herself - not that it did not exist, she had not tried to bite, but he is not blind to how much effort she had to put in to keep herself stable. She throws a tantrum. It is the only way to describe attacking the tree, for growling as she came to approach him again. His patience was worn, to be sure, even as she tucked herself into his neck and she returned her own onslaught of words.
He offers no retaliation, not towards that moment where he believes she has finally listened, finally heard him past her own low-flung ambitions to mortal worship. The words that come though are not those that he had exposed his affections in order to hear. She would not apologize, would not own her mistake. She owns her mortal body, her mortal mind, her mortal trappings - and rejects that gloriousness he knew her capable of. She claims she will be the goddess he spoke of - but immediately deflates that promise with a claim to be what mortal life has made of her. She claims the only effort would be to respect him, but he can feel the feeble nature of the promise as she speaks it and his returned embrace of her is tightened if only because he knows now how this will end.
“Can you try to understand me and not just your religion? You feel attachment so certainly, you can feel other emotions.”
When she lays herself with accusing eyes daring him to attack her, he knows that the matter is lost. “I can understand you and still not approve of choices, my student.” The title of student is used to peel himself away, to begin this separation he should have seen coming. He feels his chest aching but does not dare speak more about feelings to one who could not rise up from her mortal bindings and boons. She was too attached to her life on this plane, too attached to this Moladion’s fates and designs.
He could not have her.
“My attachment is not proof I feel other emotions, I have always felt every emotion quite fully, deeply, and wholeheartedly. It is a part of my nature.” He says this with a gravelly texture to his tone of voice, choking on the words he does not wish would pass his lips. “But if you will not rise up, then I cannot own the emotions I would have most loved to express. You know enough, though you do not know it all. You have learned the holy language of my people as well as I can bear to teach one who will not reach their ultimate calling.”
His blue eyes are as sad as he had ever been given to feel, hopes and heart dashed on jagged rocks. “I will mourn you, mourn your loss as well as your soul’s. I can smell you have those who care for you, I cannot imagine you will regret my absence for long.” And with her warmth still lingering in the coat of his throat and chest, he lets her howl reach out to the soul she lost - and in his mind he wished a little of that mournful sound had been meant for mourning him.
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