Ankyra Sound Tragedies with penniless fountains

the pup did not speak; it was stoic despite being one so young. mahler mirrored the stone regard of the child, turning only with a small movement to note that the seabird had succumbed to his careless dragging of it along the shoreline. it moved no more in the shallows, and after a long moment, the musiker returned the implacability of his lavender stare upon his unwilling companion.
here he swept his gaze over the small-budded features, noting or perhaps assuming what the child had gained from caiaphas and what from kierkegaard. and because the wolf before him was a child, and one for which he felt absolutely nothing, mahler did not attempt to temper his narrowed gaze with civility. only boredom kept him there upon the strand.
presently, the man waded in to lift the limp bird and let it fall to the sand between he and the sea-hag's spawn. there was no sense in repeating a command the other was either too stupid or too young to understand; they were of the same equation for mahler. in a deft motion, the silent thing plucked a mouthful of feathers from the seafowl's breast, spat them into the water, and began to feed as if he was suddenly and completely alone.