Wayward

The Morningstar's ears flicked as Atreyu's soft voice broke through his focus. He turned, his cyan gaze meeting her holographic one, the weight of her sorrow mirroring his own. "Yes... it is a good find," he murmured, his voice steady but tinged with sadness. His eyes drifted to the paints she laid out and a faint smile touched his lips. "You've thought of everything... he would like that."

Looking back at the fallen tree, he ran a paw along its rough surface. "We'll carve it out.. together," he said, his tone resolute despite the lump in his throat. "I've brought tools." He would lean, sliding his satchel off his form and opening it to reveal not only the branches he had collected but a two very sharp small blades, offering one to her. "One cut at a time, we'll do this right - for Vayne."

As he began to work he found that the old wood gave way to the blade quite nicely, and the meticulous task did well to keep him busy and less focused on what they had lost. Each stroke was deliberate, almost reverent, as if the act itself was a prayer. "He deserves this," Oath murmured, more to himself than to Atreyu, his voice slow and steady despite the ache in his chest. The shavings fell around them like soft whispers to the ground, with each piece removed, a shape began to emerge; a hint of the figure they hoped to create. Pausing briefly, he glanced at Atreyu, "We'll bring him back, even if just for a moment."