ooc:
Her mate was apparently more keen to appease his interests in the shop than he was with his beloved’s dislike for the place. Her discomfort to human dwells could not be described in words alone. It was something relatively far beyond comprehension by the audible sense. It was a feeling beyond touch, a sense that was yet to be named was always stirred when she neared the remnants of a distant past. And as easily as they were roused, they were far more difficult to be rid of.
But still for her mate she did not expression further discomfort, simply meandered her way into the shop under the conducting steps of his mountainous form til her feet no longer graced snow but an irritating ground underpaw that reminded her of the black road that ran near the west river. Their feeling was the same, but she knew this was not the same ground. None the less it caused her hackles to rise just as uncomfortably. Even with his adoring affections, she was not put at ease.
“I do not like these places…” she growled softly, letting her ears rest nervously against her skull. How could she home to convey her dislike in words when even she couldn’t think of the appropriate vocabulary? The Nomads had no names for what she was feeling, and the gesture was so ambiguous that even she saw no reason to use it now to explain. She could only hope that he could see it in her eyes, in her mood, her reluctance to play despite his enticing advances, that she was far from comfortable here… and hoped that it would not ruin this venture down his past. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “If you built it yourself, I suppose it would be different. But this was not built by you… and it does not feel right here. It is strange…”