you know, I think it was born of a feeling that I got when I left from your home
then it turned into something repeating and I couldn’t let it alone
There’s something missing that he can’t quite put a finger on. Something wrong with the picture but the ache in his chest does not help him quantify what that is exactly. Instead he feels it distantly, like something that bubbles in his throat but never reaches his tongue. Something that scratches the back of his mind, disappearing the second that he puts his actual attention toward it. It is fleeting and painful and he frowns a little as he wrestles with the loneliness that suddenly floods through, the pain acute.
Realizing that he had been quiet for several moments, he shakes his head.
“I’m so sorry, my thoughts are strange today,” his smile comes back again, so easily charming—crooked in the corner, his plain eyes sparking. “But I suppose they usually run away when I meet someone pretty.”
Not that he had ever met anyone quite as pretty as her, he thinks, and that strange twisting in his gut happens again. Had he met her before? He couldn’t remember. His eyes sharpen on her, study her face more intently and there is a second where he feels like he may recognize her, where something important is just outside if his grasp, but it slips away from him again and he’s left empty-handed and frustrated.
At her warning, he shakes out his mane, laughing a little—the sound throaty and dark. The sand around his feet begins to swirl just a little, but he puts no real power behind it. It’s mostly just mixing patterns that lash around his legs, abrasive but not an actual storm. It will die out soon enough, he knows.
“Maybe I am the thing that goes bump in the night,” he ponders.
Then, with an inclining of his head, “But I think that you may be instead.”
who’d have known that I’d ever be reeling simply from being on my own
oh, I craved and I craved and I craved and I craved to get back that feeling I’d known
![[Image: fenris.gif]](https://i.postimg.cc/nzm45dG9/fenris.gif)