Noctisardor Bypass hash pipe

each second that he stood near sequoia, mahler was beginning to lose his sense. he was logical and wounded enough to remain steadfast, but despite the age touted in the younger's head, he was not immune to her enchantments.
an primal prowl closer, charcoal plume swaying; but the gargoyle would not approach, not truly. "i had hoped," voice trailing, the stupidity of what he had been about to say cutting off: he had hoped she might go with praimfaya, for he did not enjoy the potential of either being alone at this time.
but this was what he had chosen: possession over freedom. "i vant you to be careful, sequoia," he murmured, not quite paternalistic but worried all the same.