Blackwater Islands 2+2=5 (The Lukewarm)

Though it took some time, Whip soon began to regain control of his breathing and the fearful flicker of his eyes. She didn't say a word, and scarcely dared to move, when he leaned in close to glean what little comfort he could from the awkward, hulking mass of bone and flesh that was his Matriarch. But dismay crept into the uncertain baritenor of his voice, and Akantha sucked in her own breath before quickly assembling her wits to amend the break in his resolve before it happened again. "Hush," she crooned, only to lap gently at the soft curve of his ear. "don't apologize for what harm your demons cause you." she remarked, the words considerably thoughtful and wise for someone so... not. 

But she drew away after another moment, and looked him over just to be certain he was not actually wounded. Akantha remained as a barrier to the outside; a mountainous wall circling the smaller, scrappy boy, sharing in her warmth and what security she brought. "Does this happen often?" She asked a beat later while her hazel eyes fixated somewhere neutral—somewhere around his nose, or cheek.