Give me some sugar, it will heal my salted wounds

Walk | Talk | Think

She was making her rounds, gathering what little stock she could for her stores though already it seemed as if the cold reach of winter had beat her to it. The usual sprigs of green and color had gone dull and dry with the approaching season, leaving behind nothing of use save the fragile reminders of where the plant had grown. Damn. Her brows knit, frustration evident though it quickly dissipated with a rushed sigh. She should have begun gathering earlier than this. It was her own fault.

Hoping against hope that there might be at least a little something worth salvaging - maybe even a new plant that was suited for the cold? Or was that too wishful? - the grey-legged creature wound quietly through the maze of rocks and stone, silvery blue gaze cast at each of their bases, expectantly searching for that hint of useful green or promising color. Nothing so far, but the Garden was wide. Maybe she would have better luck elsewhere.

Following the curved path lined by stone, Callisto lifted her head as she rounded another bend, an attempt at getting her bearings again for which areas she had already scouted and where she ought to go next. She spotted instead the still, pensive, heartbroken Hajime, looking something like a brooding brown statue where he sat atop one of the boulders. She had only met him once, had labeled him one of the Ebon Knights and therefore not an acquaintance she needed to keep, but despite her typical indifference a little piece of her went out to him. She knew nothing of love or all that it entailed - it still seemed like nonsense to her - but she knew of loss. Was she not the last of her family?

Instinct urged her to tuck her head and choose another path that would bring her clear of him, so that he could keep the privacy he had created for a while longer, have his thoughts his own. But she hesitated. What was normal for a situation like this? Apologies? Consolation? A quiet, understanding presence? If she had been in his steps - that is, if she thought herself capable of feeling strongly enough to mourn and grieve and feel loss - then she was sure she would have wanted her solitude. It was always how she preferred it. But this wolf was not her, and honestly no one else was. Maybe he would welcome unanticipated company, even if only for a few seconds.

Quietly, tentatively, her gaze alternating between staring demurely at the ground and then assessingly upward into his face, Calli approached. Her steps were slow as they carried her mostly black frame over to the rock he sat on, but even by the time she stopped there next to him she was no closer to knowing what was proper to say. She was quiet for a time, staring at the side of the stone as she pondered, and then softly, perhaps even a little awkwardly, asked, "How are you feeling?"