Ryerles crossed her arms with an irritated pout and flew off. Not that Morticia minded, they would have more words about this later, of that she had no doubt. Zanar seemed to be of the same mind as he answered the pixie’s questions. Her face fell as she stared at the scars on his chest, listening to his tale with horror. Why did so many tales have to be so terrible? How many people had to endure such awful situations before there was goodness in the world?

How many had to suffer? The odd pair lapsed into mutual silence, both absorbed by memories of pain. Morticia’s hand lifted to her sternum, touching with only the tips of all of her phlangies. ”I, too, brushed death’s door. My…. friend, and I were taking a walk. As I sat on his shoulder, a hawk came from nowhere, and snatched me up. Its talons impaled me… If it wasn’t for my friend… He poured all of his magical healing spells into me, and held me close in his hands to keep me warm…” Not only that, but he was so relieved to see her alive that he married her that night.

Morticia blinked back a sudden onslaught of tears. She had spent so long trying to keep those memories locked up. A dam somewhere had broken, and she was now in a turbulent wave of emotions cascading with the force of decades worth of penting. ”When I lost them… I didn’t know what to do, who I am without them… How do humans deal with loss such as this? They’re alive, yet gone. And I… Who were they… those you needed to protect?” It was a whispered question, afraid that if she spoke any louder, the pixie would start crying. She had to turn the subject off of her once more, lest she fall into a place so dark, she’d find herself back at square one.