Ankyra Sound creature fear

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The male’s eyes lingered on her face for a moment after his words had fallen and his question hung in the air like fog. She had seemed slightly perturbed that he should ask this, though it was no concern to him if Caiaphas had opted not to respond. It had been born only from the curiosity that pricked in the back of Kierkegaard’s mind. He had no intention of offending his waif-like hostess with impolite questions. What seemed to surprise him more was that she did respond. The answer that slipped through her dark lips caused the injured male to chuckle quietly. “Fortunate for me,” he drawled thoughtfully, with the ghost of a smile still lingering on the edges of his mouth. It was a rare chance to witness the hulking mass of sinew and smoke-colored fur in such a state of ease.
There, after his remark, seemed to be an odd sort of silence that settled between them. Kierkegaard was not a creature who struggled with words. His were, oftentimes, so carefully chosen that he had the means to conjure them when he wished. He had never truly found himself as contentedly flustered as when he found himself in the company of the yellow-eyed sea-wolf. Perhaps, it was that he could not place his feelings for Caiaphas, but that he was so acutely aware that they were there.
“I should not keep you much longer,” the male finally spoke, his golden eyes darting to the cavern floor. The smile that had lingered on the edges of his lips had since faded, and the lengthy ears atop his skull seemed to twitch with uncertainty.