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She held the youngest up to wedge his flowers in the cracks of the crystal; as she set him down, all three children ran to chase each other around the bottom of Xande’s throne. She watched them for a bit before turning back to the crystal face.
“You would laugh at some of the stories they tell, I think. You grow taller in the telling each year, sometimes with more staves than you have arms. It’s hard to find anyone willing to believe you tried to open a letter with a fish, now.”
The children tried to push each other up on top of the throne until they saw her staring at them with a raised eyebrow; they sheepishly swapped to a tamer game. She shook her head and laughed softly.
“The spirit is more important than the details – and there is so much of your spirit here, still. It has only grown with the stories.”
The breeze moved her hair softly.
“I used to wonder… I used to worry over holding you back from what you wanted. Even after your words that day, the worry stuck on my bones. But over time I saw how you’re still here, even though you’re gone – I saw you in the strength of every guard, in the kindness of every eye, and.”
Her throat hurt just a bit. She’d have to head to Spagyrics when they were done here, likely.
“…And I know now, that just as there is a part of you in all of us here, there is a part of all of us in you, everywhere you’ve gone.”
She took a breath to steady herself, but another voice rang across the wind.
“What do you have?! Ma! He’s got somethin’!”
The youngest was running, and waving some piece of debris exuberantly, the eldest chasing after and yelling for him to turn over whatever he’d found. Lyna laughed in spite of herself as she jogged after the three.
“And wherever you go, you can rest assured that your duty of greying my hairs is being well-managed in your absence.”