.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
07-07-2014, 02:47 AM
Something quiet crawls through the blue depths of his eyes. He listens raptly, his mind that of an able student poorly shaped. Though something of the tiny being concerns him, Caneo feels an odd yearning as he drinks in the sight, as well. To be without loneliness, to be in constant company... If he has a weakness, it yawns now within the trembling confines of his soul. But he says nothing, and his expression betrays nothing aside from vague interest. Call it wariness; call him circumspect. He tucks away the information for later use. His narrow head nods gracefully at Lena. “We had nothing like that... in my old home.” He judges it a safe enough thing to say, and swerves his mind from thoughts of other sandy shores, of meetings under the cover of darkness and endings... so many endings. His eyes, as ever, find Roland again when the thief begins to speak. “I don’t think a companion would be well-suited to my line of work.” The answer comes slowly, teased out after moments of silence, and Caneo wonders how much truth he may find within it. But he does not pry; he merely watches, curious and weary and morose. The thief is unlike Imogen – is unlike Caneo – though Caneo’s attention lingers there, still. They may share more in likeness than he knows; he may grow into something like that, if he tries. And does he wish to try? He nods in answer to Roland’s next statement. Caneo is tired; part of the exhaustion makes him speak too much, and quelled at last, he steps back, his hooves dragging on the bank. “Sure.” He looks up only briefly at the stars, and then once more at Lena – too bright, too wonderful – to bid her a soft farewell. It is not a perfect place, but he thinks it may be suitable, at least. “Thank you.” Caneo smiles, his tail twitching at its very tip. “I will look forward to seeing you both again,” he says, though he says it without feeling and without faith, knowing such a sentiment has slipped out too often in the past and never been fulfilled. “I am very tired though. I guess... good night.” The tail tip flicks again, a small betrayal of anxiety, and he steps away from the water, and peers into the dark, judging only for a moment the best direction to depart into. He is not accustomed to sleeping near others – not anymore. The mere idea of it makes his skin twitch.  |
