Barrow Fields castles in the sand, cradles in the trees

All things considered, Screech was not a physically affectionate individual - usually. He had been through hell on numerous occasions and through those trials, learned that physicality was usualy the precursor to pain; yet the same could not be said for his dealings with this dancing shadow. She was only ever kind. Her touch was always soft, her voice sweet and quiet, and even now he knew better than to sink in to the sensation of her nose upon his cheek, but he did it anyways. Screech enjoyed her attention more and more each time he was graced with it. No matter what he had been through, Coelacanth had a way of easing his very soul.

There was a curious look to her now, though, which Screech may have studied a little bit too long. He assumed she was curious about why he was there - little did he know, that was called deductive reasoning, and his sense of intuition wasn't far off the mark. Without a prompt from her, he took a deep breath (relishing her scent) and said, I left them. I know, I know, it was stupid -- I'm stupid, most of the time. But it wasn't right. I thought I'd fit there and I didn't. As he said this, it was as if everything compounded and linked up in his mind, and the tone of his voice dropped. I'm all alone now. Maybe that's better.