~ Morag MourningStar ~
"I do not believe that your vengance should consume all of your life, your folks wouldn't want that. They would want you happy." But then she is leaveing. He stands long enough to watch her go, raises one hand in farewell until she is out of sight, and then drops wooden plate and all the food into the fire.
The creature sits on the cold ground and eats his meal in silence, except for one piece of honey'd bread which he feeds his horse. "You don't get to leave," he tells the mare sternly before pulling the cake out of the coals, dousing the fire, and after removing the cake from the pan and onto a plate decorates it, white frosting and strawberries with a few mint leaves to make it look like as-yet unbloomed flowers.
Morag then gathers his things, and with cart attatched to horse, mounts up and rides away, item in careful hands. He's going to a wedding, invited or not, because this was what he wished he had had, and did have, and would have. Not to be.
He looks back, just once, to the place of the camp, and the direction she rode off in, just once. But she wasn't there, and probably not comming back, so.. he leaves. Not at a fast pace, but not a snails crawl iether. He would arrive swift enough wearing a clean blue tunic, hair still up except for that lock, sword at his hip, cake in hand - though it has cooled a bit. He would not intrude, but.. wait just outside the ring of wedding paraders with his gift, ... just to watch.. to.. feel.. the happiness.
)
