Mourning Muse.

It was early yet and the household was still.

The gentle patter of sleet upon the window had awoken her.

Lellah, the daughter of Hygelic watched her sleeping husband.

She remembered her father’s time worn lament, “How fickle fate was with the lives of men.” She understood now.

His visits home had grown far too infrequent.

Even his body wasn’t the same.

Oh he was conscientious enough to keep the clone age appropriate, but still not the same.

When you have been lovers for as long as they had, you know your partner’s body like a familiar landscape. A scar from a mishap climbing for Uellarion blossoms, a burn from a campfire ember, a mark of passion, gone.

But still, he was here now.

~She sighs softly, reaching out to touch his exposed leg.~ "I am your helpmeet, your respite; I will keep this empty house, I will not shun my oath."