Noctisardor Bypass I can't turn back around and doubt my destination

Even her distance brought only more distance from him. Her attempts to allure him drove him away. Her cold shoulder did only the same. It was probably better that way, and yet she could feel panic rise as those grains of sand slipped through her paws, as she lost him. Had she ever had him to begin with? Why did she need this desire to be admired, to be loved? Why wasn't it enough just to be by herself, without anyone to measure her worthiness?

And yet she wanted to be measured, she wanted for the cocoon she'd been in all her life to burst open and to fly into the light for all to admire how beautiful she was. She couldn't do it alone. And yet it was clear once more that the only man who could've done it for her, she had murdered, and now he tormented her rotten insides forever to remind her of that fact.

Mahler did not respond much to her coldness, not other than distancing himself. If he would not fight for her, what did it matter anyway? Laurel's ears splayed and then twitched back into plays at his question. It's too early to tell, she responded. Enough of an answer. Probably, she thought to herself, but that too was hidden in her answer. Enough for him to guess, anyway.

Mahler offered to bring her to her den. She looked at him with eyes ablaze suddenly, a harsh counter from her previous apathy. Why? Why do you care what happens to me? she asked, her words accusatory and harsh; almost as if he had beaten her or spat in her face moments ago. And he had, in some way.