Gyrfalcon's Keep the twisted nails of faith

the waif had never been one for platitudes, having often found them to be lacking any depth of contrition. but the sienna-cast comrade besides her was absolute in his empathy for her - so much that she could sense the clutter of compuctiousness between the two of them. she was almost too absorbed in her own self-pity to notice the stirring lasher felt -- but where he sat besides her caiaphas thought she sensed an inking of longing stain the air between them.

she pulled back, suspicious - the feral yellow of her eyes barbed with sharpness. but he had not pursued her, not yet. she did not wish for him to utter any sort of admittance before her for fear it would ruin the very real moment they shared. "where are you now?" she inquired, hasty to change the subject both for the sake of her mourning and personal comfort.