It was strange to feel the difference in holding onto her, but maybe it was just a reflection of their situations in life. The last time they’d been closer to equal in size, but he had been the one to hold onto her, to stroke her fur as she sobbed against his chest. She’d lost someone close to her, and now he was experiencing the same thing. He wanted to cling to her as she’d done to him, to lose himself and blubber all over her, to vent some of this deep grief that was threatening to pull him apart. There was still part of him that fancied himself a strong man, though, a man who was not going to just break down without a fight. He’d been good and strong for her before, and now he needed to be for himself.
Her voice seemed more mature too, but everything sounded strange to ears that had heard a death rattle. He smiled gently, his hand still cupping her cheek and his fingers brushing lightly against the fur there. It was strange to have to look up into her lovely icy-blue eyes.
“Good to see you too,” Skoll managed, his gaze darting to the different points of her face, the close-cropped hair and the V-shape of the black mask. “I—ahh—how are things with your—with Casa di Cavalieri?” He blinked rapidly, keeping his voice steady though his words became chopped. He could feel his breathing deepen and his throat begin to clump, but he fought it off.
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