Golden Glade look what's left of my bled heart

He felt pitiful, and very much looked the part. Noticing Dagfinn's approach didn't seem to happen soon enough and when it did, Silas gave him an unintentionally wary look with his ears folded back. A little more upset at himself for that, and feeling all around bad in general still, Silas tried to straighten himself to at least something almost sphinx-like.

Are you okay? Which, immediately, had the dark Ostrega frowning more. Not really. He wouldn't outright say this, though.

He hadn't felt overly okay in a pretty long time. Some cozy, quaint moments between him and Tambourine had been the closest thing to it, but there was always that looming feeling of something bad breathing down his neck. Which lo and behold, here it was, making him feel like absolute shit all over again after it ripped the last single thing he'd been able to actually care about away from him. "I didn't find Tambourine," he grated out, and coughed once to clear his throat. Like this was meant to explain everything and why he was so torn up about it. But Dagfinn probably wouldn't get the lengths of it all. Silas barely knew him beyond his name, scent, and face — not that he had been generous with the friendship on his end either.

"Is it.. still, um, all okay here?" he asked hollowly and looked away to grimace more. Could Dagfinn understand either of these issues, he wondered blearily in his tired head. Tambourine could, but Tambourine had been a different matter entirely.