Swiftcurrent Creek Snacks for launch day binging

her gaze lost any hope of warmth; mahler felt well its scourge and felt himself begin to ache with anger beneath it. and when she leveled the the cool and thorned lash of her accusation toward him, a muscle jumped in the musiker's jaw. his eyes fell away from wylla; the massive shoulders rolled beneath the heavy fur of his ruff. but in the rage was hurt, and its own sodden barbs bit deeply into his psyche, until at last the tension died from his features.
mahler regarded the woman with pain limning the otherwise impassive cast of his countenance; he did not know how else to be with wylla, not when the directness of her tongue stripped bare whatever he might say before it was uttered. and yet she did not know; she could not know.
"all i knew was that you departed," he rejoined in a tone more devoid of inflection than he had meant, "and i waited for you to return. and you did not. she did not lead us. i did not respect her." now anger, the frustration of realizing his odd dedication to wylla, something not understood even to mahler, had all been for naught. "and then the bear came to grimnismal. they left, and i left to find you. and i looked for you. and i found you." and tiercel, the man wanted to add, the delighted face of the duckling reminding him of the quiet joy he had found even beneath wylla's coldness.
"and you do not want me near. very well," he went on, finding breath for truly the longest spate of words he had spoken in memory. "then i will not approach, wylla. but do not insult me by suggesting i have not always shown you respect." a blink; a glissade of dread in his heart for how harshly he had spoken, but mahler could not help the glower of his lilac stare upon wylla, nor the stiffness of his limbs.
before she answered, he turned away; he must now quit her company, or speak in more anger than he had showed. mahler moved away from wylla into the recesses of swiftcurrent, heading for the border and the lands beyond the silver woman's presence.