The Sentinels and the malaprops make me wanna fucking scream

He knew from the moment her words began to trail off that she too would seek a swift escape from him. If there were ever a notion that it pained him, it flickered by in his gaze just as quick as it had come, swept away by the mirroring shift of his gaze to their surroundings. Perhaps this was why Nyx had spared him a goodbye, no longer able to temper tolerance for the ebb and flow of him—but that was a very bitter thought, and very bitter thoughts were ill-suited to keep as company.

They did not however spare him from a stiffening posture that rendered him silent. Where there should have been words, even simple ones assuring her that he did not intend to lead her astray and that their trip would take them back the way she had come, he could not find them. It was unlike him, who up until recently had been more surefooted in the art of conversation. Her parting words drew his attention keenly; her voice was hushed to the suddenly so loud ambiance and he found that she could not look on him any longer.

Never mind the offer she had extended to him—the lack of confidence now burned him worse.

”As you were then,” he found himself saying, almost absently. ”Safe travels, little blackbird.” The scene there forward unfolded swift and sure, perhaps even childishly in the way he decided to start off without her inland. Of all the things that were currently not going in his favor, he had not anticipated adding another entry to the list so soon, let alone feel the accompaniment of foolishness begin to sting at his cheeks. So off he went, beating a hasty retreat not unlike the many he had performed before.