Ouroboros Spine [m] why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing?

a sweet thing, this girl. a pang of guilt radiates from his chest down to his stomach.
that's awfully nice of you, he's deflecting, and he knows this; his gaze lands upon the sharp curve of her wrist against the plume of her tail. it's just that, ah-- apparently, i got kicked in the face by a bison. and she saved me. she's been nursing me back to health, and she won't let me repay her. i think any reasonable person would feel a little guilty for that, yeah?
he blows a puff of air from his nostrils, leaning further back on his haunches as the heaviness of the seeds begins to take hold of him. what about you? you a stray too, or were you, like, born here?