Deepwood Weald to cut away the mountains i've made

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There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

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The words skittered through Moath’s auds with tickling metallic clicks, slightly sticky as they left a trail of viscous dripping webs in his mind. But he dared not tread on them, having no need to entangle in an argument over looks or even trying to explain his ‘fascination’. This the trap remained untouched-
and he remained silent. But he hadn’t gotten much motive to leave this conversation, whether it was one-sided or not. 

But what could he give this child? “No.” The response reared out from the thick throat of the brute, just as grotesque in texture as someone who clearly spoke near nothing for all of eternity, as though it were some sickly sin for him to use speech, at all. Angels would scream and shiver from what was his voice, damning it as a unnatural entity all on its own. 

But that was all he had chance to give to Marruz, as his breath held him from speaking further. He had nothing else to say. 
Nothing at all.

Righting his dome back to where it was mean to be, he had finished his analytics, being ready to simply exist as plain as the field they stood in, yet again.

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And in silence, he waited.

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