this tragic affair

He answers her, as though in a daze, and she finds herself struck -- what now? She realizes that she has no idea what she means to say, that she had only wanted to hear his voice, wants the reminder that he is in close proximity if nothing else and she fidgets, curling her toes into the soft ground below her feet, still loose from his carving out the room in which she now rests, only her forehalf in front of her shoulders visible. "Um..." She frowns, twists her ears back against the flat expanse of her skull and sighs deeply, her tail twitching unseen in agitation. "I d'no. I... Just, thanks, I guess," she mutters, receding somewhat into the den so that the shadows kiss her angular face, now only her nose peeking out but she can still see him through slitted emerald eyes, her heart pounding more rapidly against its chest than it should be. Why is this so damned hard? She is not good at a platonic relationship with him, will never be good at this and she finds herself feeling trapped, wanting to flee (forever running from her problems instead of facing them).

Table by Azil