Through the film of haze that covered the brute's golden gaze, it was impossible to try and gauge Arah's reaction, her thoughts, or simply to just look at her and take in the form of the one he had come to love so long ago.

But through the bond with Talbot, he could see her, see that tear slide from her eye and glint in the pale moonlight, and in that moment, it felt as though some demon had reached up through his rib cage and ripped his heart right out from his chest.

The male drew in a deep breath, barrel expanding and then slowly deflating as he let it out. A rare ball of emotion had formed and caught in his throat, and he'd of done anything to make it go away, but looking upon Arah and seeing such torment plaguing her features was almost too much. He yearned to step forward, to close the distance between them crane his neck about her own, to let her know that it was alright and that he would never allow such things to happen again, but... Never would he be able to assure that promise was kept. His absence was proof enough of that.

Her gaze was unyielding throughout his explanation, and for a long while he expected her to do little more than state her disappointment, turn, and walk away, never for him to see again. Crowley wouldn't have blamed her, honestly, he had failed her and their daughters; but when she finally did speak, relief shown in his expression, only to darken with worry moments later.

'Save them?'

A deep frown marred the brindle's face as he listened to the pale lady, of how Asch held no interest in her own mother, and of Arwen and her desire to listen to the tales of the dead. That was disturbing, a magic he had been unaware was in his daughter's capabilities, but then again, he'd not laid eyes on any of them since shortly after their births. That, perhaps, hurt worse than anything else. What a terrible father he was.

Even Rhiannon seemed to have escaped Arah's attention, and although he still worried for her welfare and the feelings she more than likely harbored against him, his worry wasn't nearly as great for her as with her young sisters. Rhiannon had more life experience, she was a smart girl, and if he had taught her anything, it was how to hold her own and take care of herself.

And then, then, Arah went on to twist the knife back on herself.

"Arah, no," Crowley's voice remained calm, but held a sort of firmness in it that made it clear he couldn't be persuaded otherwise, "I don't know what's happened to you and them since my disappearing, but... Please, whatever's befallen you, or them, it isn't your fault. You are such a kind soul..." The words died on his lips for only a moment as the doe stepped forward and closer to him, and carefully, he took his own, single step closer, to show that the action was welcomed, wanted, even if they did not yet touch. "I can't fathom that you could ever do wrong. Not on purpose. Not in this lifetime. Not to our girls."

She asked next of what had happened to him, and for a moment the brindle was ready to remind her what he had said only minutes ago, until it dawned on him. The curse of the Moon. Another sigh slithers down and through his nose, and for a moment he was apprehensive to tell her the truth, but lying would get him nowhere. Not when they needed to mend what had broken between them.

"It isn't an ailment that can be helped," the stag explained with brows furrowed, dark lips pursed together as he recalled that night the Lady Moon had lain her curse upon Talbot, before he took it on himself. "It's the Moon's doing, Arah. This isn't the first of the trials she's put upon me, but it will fade with time. By morning, I hope, until something else takes ahold of me."

Crowley grew quiet then, looking almost uncomfortable as he went silent before speaking back up a moment later. "Perhaps... You could stay with me until the dawn, Arah?"

"Talk talk talk"