Stavanger Bay deixar lo sortir

it seemed as though he had shrunken in even more on himself as she spoke. i suppose i don't blame you, she retorts, pausing to watch the tiny trench of gritty sand form as lestan pulls it away with his nails. i don't know exactly what you are going t'rough, but... i can see 'ow much it hurts you.
'ave you ever been to ze creek? she asks next, a gentle persuasion that would hopefully get him to think of something, anything else, even if only for a second. it sounds nice.
the rosy eyes trace up the length of his slender forelimb to the seaswept ruff of his neck, focusing now on the leathery, alien object that had him ensnared. what was that thing? her brow furrows as she stares at it, watching a tiny, but rather distracting blinking light. was it rude to ask?