[ she strokes her fingers over his hair, gentle strokes as she might a child. ] Oh, my Makalaure. [ her eyes slide shut, grief welling once more, and it's all she can do to keep it out of her voice. ] One day, I pray that you will see that it is still possible. I will wait as long as need be.

[ she tips her head slightly, lips brushing his crown. ] There are those, after all, that yet love you, and always shall.