Blackfeather Woods Seems I deal with things a bit differently.

She doesn't respond and he feels that heavy weight of his terrible decision gain another few pounds. It presses down upon him like claustrophobia and for a moment he thinks he cannot breathe — but its only a moment. She stirs and they lock eyes, seconds ticking away, and she makes no move as to reply. Not verbally, anyways. She makes a motion in the dark and he's not sure what he's watching but, somehow, understands.

She says shes tired. How could he know that? Mou's face transforms in to a frown and his expression drifts among the shadows, confused and concerned but for himself rather than her. How does he know that? Where did he learn it?

He takes a step towards her with his head lowered, shoulders jutting above. He turns his face so that he can look at her with his good eye but doesn't see anything. Mou turns his head so that he can look at her with his stone-eye, with the eye of Sithis, as if that would garner more understanding, but it doesn't. He draws back like a snake ready to strike but rather than do any harm, he coils up, lays down.

Wha was det? His voice might be frail and the sounds lacking harmony, but the question is as clear as he can make it. He's almost afraid to look at her because she might draw another sigil and maybe he'll understand that too. Then what?