Ankyra Sound out of the will came life

she decides that he needs a protective spell. to shield him from malice, she says. scarab lets out a low snort under his breath. if he is shown malice he no doubt deserves it ...for how many times has he been malicious in his life? everything was a balance. a scale. you could not give it if you did not expect for it to be returned. it was how life worked. but he, of course, doesn't vocalize this — can't or won't he doesn't even know anymore. if it'll make her happy then who was he to take that away from her?

she is demanding but he shrugs and follows after her to aid in the gathering of ingredients. he wonders what she will expect in return for this. safe passage? shelter for a few days? maybe longer? he figures, at this point, he couldn't deny her it. wouldn't. especially if she was making him a spell to protect him for a few months. the thought makes him, a hermit by choice, a bit uncomfortable but he'd pay the price.

should i help...? frusteration knits his brows again as his tongue feels heavy against his mouth, his teeth as he tries to vocalize. a warbling noise is all he manages, followed by a small grunt and huff. he finds another crab and smacks it around — like a kitten with a spider — before he crunches down on it's shell with his teeth, bringing it over to the coywitch for inspection.