Overture Downs You should go and love yourself*

He does not resist the touch of her muzzle beneath his jaw to bring his snout up, and his gaze lifts to meet hers again as he swallows back a lump born of bothersome emotions. He listens to her and hears the reason in her words, but his mind is closed to it. He is an emotional creature, and though he does not realize it so clearly yet, it was his error to attempt to shelter his emotions, his passionate heart, beneath a fragile barrier of nonchalance.

In his effort to become unphased by feeling he has insured his own undoing, insured that once the wall had been breached, emotion would come as a stampede, deafening the voice of logic and crushing his levelheadedness and optimism. He was to become weak and wild with feeling, having never allowed himself the chance to appropriately temper his emotions with reason, to seat them firmly in his breast such that he remain in control of his faculties.

He tilts his face toward her as her tongue caresses him. "If he did, I did not hear him." Nor did anyone else, but it did not matter to him. Fatigued by his own brew of anger and guilt he shifts down her side a half pace, just to lay his head across her shoulders in a semi-embrace. Here he picks up his idle grooming again, his blue tongue smoothing the furs of her back. He needs this contact and wants this closeness, for he has no interest in words, either hearing or speaking.

Excuse the ramble I am working stuff out LMAO.