Lion Head Mesa [M]No filter on your mouth

He stepped away from her! He was leaving her! Leaving her! Though, then by no force, she swiftly moved from the entrance. It was open. He could leave. "Yes?" A frail whimper, and she pushed towards him again; though, not so close to touch. It was quickly after that her belly hit the ground, and the mazoi stared up to the mans face with her chin on top of her wrists.

Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay
Slow eyes to the ground, then to the opal screens of his. "Whispers-- important? Should care?" If only she knew the feeling of care and its complexities, its extremities, its own whispers. Its own intricacies.

"Would He want to stay with me?" Then next, a big frown and miserable eyes. Miserable voice. Oh, how miserable. Poor little imp. Poor, poor, little imp.
 "He wants to leave her?"

Stay.