anyone;

[Sinder]

She doesn't understand. (No shit, Sherlock) I'm a fool. (You're a damn mute. A waste of air now) I won't be. I can't be. Sinder had ambitions but they've been smothered by his silence. It's both a blessing and a curse to lack the ability to speak. He has to rely on others to understand him or magicians to cure him. It's preferable to not rely on anyone, but the hooded male is at a loss. The conversation is plunging now. Although she smiles and bobs her head Sinder can tell she didn't understand the noises that he pushed between his teeth. The muscles of his jaw clenches in frustration as his hollow eyes look down at the sand shuffling beneath his hooves. She doesn't reciprocate or lean into him like Noori had; instead, Pevensie invites him to the oasis to satiate her need for shade and for the water's cool, inviting touch. Sinder hesitates but obliges with a inhale of air. Perhaps she can be another Noori, a replacement. (Fuck Noori. She's gone) We - I - don't know that. (She's gone, idiot. She doesn't want you) No, she wants love - something that doesn't exist. With an abrupt turn, Sinder joins Pevensie in the water. It laps against his shoulder and neck as he moves toward her, quickly closing the distance. There is an odd brightness in his eyes that plays against the thin line that his lips form, unsmiling. (Smiling is for the weak) I'm not weak. (Is she?) His mouth reaches forward to nibble her crest before he begins to paddle, enjoying the relief from the desert heat. SINDER