"I see him in everything you know. In corn flowers, and their striking, calming blue. In the terrified eyes of a buck before I sink my blade into its heart. I feel him sometimes too. Hand on my shoulder, steadying when I find myself unsteady. Laughing, bright and rude, when I fuck something up. I can still hear him calling me an idiot, shouldn't make me feel as warm as it does. "
He paused, taking a breath and seeming to have an internal debate. He opened his mouth to speak again but nothing came for a long time and he let it shutter closed.
The fire crackled and popped, filling in for unsaid words with embers.
"I understand," she said "I still half-expect him to come waltzing through the door, beaten-down and half-dead but plenty alive enough to feel sorry for himself and ask for a drink. He pulled that routine so many times I can damn near recite it."
He chuckled and let his eyes fall closed. The silence was comfortable now, equal. They had said what they needed to and the world would take it from there.
