11-18-2018, 03:11 AM
Shroud knows that she must tiptoe a delicate line with him - too far to either side is to court punishment. The kind that is sure to be swift and violent. She remains meek enough between the press of his flesh to hers and the rough side of the tree. For her obedience to him, the tree exacts its own payment in the form of separation of two feathers that catch in the ragged bark. If she felt their loss, she suffers it in a silence too profound to belong to a child.
Their eyes lock as she listens to his explanation. He spares her the sugar-coating that another might have liberally applied and for that, she is thankful even if it fails to flicker across her tender solemn face. Shroud blinks in the face of his vows to keep her warm and see her grown. She can appreciate that but it is the heavy implication of ownership that has her tilting her head to him in open-faced curiosity. Instinct for survival cautions her to play along for now, in letting him think her an owned thing.
She need not answer his initial question; he knows the answer to it as if it had been there on her little face, as plain as day for him to see. The girl had no deathwish and no desire to leave him, curious to see how this shall all turn out in the end. Shroud remains meek and biddable - gives him what he wants in response to the barbs he’s given her through cowed head and the nervous but careful arrangement of wings at her sides. Yawning follows, as she gives in to the demands of sleep nestled comfortably between him and the tree.
“Goodnight then.” she mutters sleepily before touching the tip of her muzzle to his neck.
@[Tunnel] daw I lub them! ❤️❤️❤️
oh and shall we wrap this one up for a new thread?