Fear does not long appeal to Tunnel, though it has its place. She has clearly learned to be afraid of the things she ought to, a woman grown and shaped by a life he has no idea of. He almost wants to know what made her this way, able to see that something dangerous stands before her but is still unable to let herself escape. Did someone just do a very good job of teaching her what she should fear or did they instead fail her, and leave her to learn on her own why she should be afraid of a man like him?
How disappointing either way… but Tunnel, he would never see his pets afraid of anything but him. She comes to him too late for that, but the creature is too pleased by the shape of the woman to dwell long on how he might have raised her better.
“You may ask.” He says, knowing she is going to continue speaking either way and he doesn’t mind questions. They do not have to be answered. Still her questions are odd ones. Why shouldn’t he be here? A snort is at first his only reply. “I told you, I live here. Why are you here?” This is his home, his forest that he shares with monsters who would not give her the time to ask them ridiculous questions.
An orphan. Not the first he has met out here, and his appraising look turns unreadable. “That’s too bad, Sunflower. You had someone to take care of you?” Tunnel takes a single step closer, the rustle of brown leaves and pine needles as whispery as her anxious breathing against his face. Roughly he drops his muzzle to chuck her beneath the chin once. “It seems you must have.” Another step and he is drawing her bright scent (tinged by her fear) off of her shoulder, his gray eyes taking in the pattern of scars carved into her flesh. A pity that, he prefers no marks or at least only those he leaves himself. “Though they might have done a better job.” This he says more to himself as he shifts again and settles so that his chest is inches from her scarred shoulder and his mouth hovers over the arch of blonde along her neck.
“I think I might be here for you Elaina.” If he can speak with tenderness it is not intentional, but his words are a soft growl breath along the golden girl’s spine. Tunnel follows the slope of her neck back to her withers and then traces the slope of her scarred shoulder, touching her this time, slowly. “You don’t want to be alone.”
@[Elaina] He is being unwieldy but we're getting there
