Bearclaw Valley moreau's golem

belatedly, mona wondered at the lack of interest in his eyes, and realized she was boring him. but alas, too late —! he was already rising with the purl of his name upon dark lips. "stigmata," the mayfair whispered in quiet interest. her gaze trailed the movement of his broad paws, the manner in which he swung away from her.
but not before stigmata's eldritch gaze trailed the sharp point of a knife across her countenance; inexorably, mona's paws tightened against the loam. the proper comportment of social self-awareness revealed stigmata wished to be alone, but the taste of his knowing gaze quickened her pace until the girl padded gingerly at his hip, hoping fervently he would not deter her. "i could help?" mona murmured, seeking the line of his jaw with fervent murkwater gaze. he had given her a breath; a name — the curious and scarlet thing could not perceive of not seeking more.