Larkcall Lowlands there ain't language for the things i've seen

He had almost escaped.

Key word: almost.

He huffed in response to the girl’s appearance in front of him, his paws skidding to a halt as his nose wrinkled in frustration. The smudge just wanted to go home before he said more uncharacteristically mean things. He had grown tired of being in her presence and wanted to be in the company of his actual friends. Or parents. Or anyone who was not her.

As she struggled to get words out the boy could not stop his eyes from rolling in irritation, his tail lashing behind him as he (impatiently) waited for her to spit the words out. Something about her mom not being home anymore? Huh. He frowned, the wrinkles in his little muzzle smoothing. Despite the change in his expression his brows still remained pinched in the middle of his forehead, his triangular sonars pinned forward. “Don’ make yer face leak again. I don’ like tha’,” he mumbled in defeat, a sharp snort exhaling from his nostrils to emphasize his point. “Then go ‘ome to yer da’ or yer siblin’s or yer wha’eva. I ain’t yer fam’lee.” Or friend. Or anything. He was just a boy trying to get home as he had already spent too long with her.

His tongue felt heavy from being so overused but he hoped it would chase the girl away back to wherever it was she came from. Being alone in the tundra was bad news bears, even if he did not like the silver-eyed girl.

 

She wasn't sure exactly what he meant by face-leaking at first, but after a second or two of thinking it through she decided he was probably talking about crying. Which was super weird, because who didn't know what crying was? Had he never cried before? The child sniffled a little and shook her head, effectively holding back tears. "Face is-isn't l-l-leakin'," she protested lightly, without malice. "S'called cry-cry-crying." A clearing of her throat brought it some relief from the overabundance of speaking she'd been doing. "H-a-appens wh-when you's sa-sad."

The boy mentioned her dad, and her ears pressed to her skull. "Don' ha-have a d-a-ad," the girl told him, shifting her paws uncomfortably underneath her. Because dads were kind of something that everybody had, right? And now that she didn't have a mom either, what did that make her? Where did that leave her? Her family had been scarce since Kisla had died, as she'd only spoken to Inna for a few moments and nobody had made time for her.

A sigh pulled itself from her chest and she offered him another slight smile. "I go n-now," she stuttered, stepping out from in front of him so that he could leave if he wanted to. "B-bye-bye." Her tail wagged a couple of times, but she didn't move, instead waiting for him to leave.

Crying, face-leaking; whatever it was called, he didn’t like it. His expression was still contorted as he watched her, cautiously, waiting for another onslaught of water to pour down her cheeks. She explained further, announcing that crying was something that happened when someone was sad. The boy frowned. He wasn’t sure if he had ever been sad. Lonely, maybe, when his parents went off to do their patrols and alpha-things, but the loneliness never caused his face to drip with water. It usually only lasted for a few minutes because he quickly realized that he was able to escape the monadnock when his parents were busy with their duties. So this sadness the silver-eyed girl spoke of was a foreign concept to him.

Don’t have a dad. Well, poo. He blinked once more, almost feeling defeated by the girl’s defiance. But, perhaps, she did not have a home and that’s why she didn’t have a mom or dad. Odd. He did not press further on the subject, however, as he could tell that Bug was getting uncomfortable. So he remained quiet, merely observing her until she spoke once more.

She… she was leaving? He blinked, dumbfounded by the sudden announcement, and tipped his head to the side. ‘M’kay,” he mumbled as he side-stepped away from her, his yellow gaze never wavering from her tawny figure as he waited for her to take her leave.

Only she didn’t.

Huh.

Giving his head a quick shake he trotted forward without another word, his head spinning at the odd conversation he’d shared with the peculiar, sad little bug.

Fade.