Sorry for the delay, I was out of town!
She was made of sharp angles and fine lines, things that made her beautiful despite the blackened, ruined echoes of bondage on her arms and neck. She was free, as he had been made free, and yet she said nothing. She did nothing but remain still. There were no echoes of abuse as there had been with him; no bleeding wounds or bruised skin. The price of freedom was very high, and it remained engrained in his memory. He owed his life to one singular person, and he could not forget that—just as he could not forget the voice that whispered through stone and spoke to him of things he did not entirely understand.
Frowning at the answer, the large male’s ears turned back. Such a terrible thing, to be without a voice—to be unable to communicate beyond signs and gestures. Even if she was able to write, Larkspur could not read. He understood her well enough though this simple way they had been, which suited him well enough. White fingers rubbed against the back of his hand, and he shifted his weight from one leg to another, almost uncomfortably. “Y’hungry?” He asked shortly, not sure what more to do for her.
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