They were no longer talking about the weather. Themis felt the words that passed between them, simple mundane comments about the season, but it wasn't the passing of winter that left her feeling cold. The season she existed in now was colder than December, biting at the heels of her loneliness. It was an odd sensation, to miss someone that was sitting in front of you, but there was no other word for this. She missed him, missed the sensation of freedom and adoration that came with him near her. Her own magic felt duller, colder when it stood alone. She nearly resented it. "I look forward to this all passing." She let the words linger, allowed him to paint for himself the picture of life when he returned. She didn't know what the truth of 'later' looked like; she had no point of reference for what she hoped. But she did hope. Whatever task had forced him away, he would overcome. He had to.
"Life is lived in cycles, but I would like to believe there are patterns we can interrupt." It had to be true. She refused to believe the ache in her chest now was part of some pattern or plan. She dearly hoped to be rid of this feeling and never experience it again.
"Life is lived in cycles, but I would like to believe there are patterns we can interrupt." It had to be true. She refused to believe the ache in her chest now was part of some pattern or plan. She dearly hoped to be rid of this feeling and never experience it again.
![[Image: Bka0H0x.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/Bka0H0x.jpeg)