Asta stayed quiet for a moment, pursing her lips, being able to scent how uneasy he was. She wasn't sure why he would be, except it was true that every time her own people were brought up, she was flooded with memories of her past. Her past, was her families' present; it wasn't as though time stood still there now that she was gone.
"I'm not upset," she said, trying to, perhaps, convince herself as well. "I just... I don't want to do anymore blood rituals."
Molaki sighed, dejected, his ears turned downward in defeat. "But everything would be so much better if we could talk to each other," he whined. It wasn't a boyish whine, but the sad, mournful sound of a canine pleading his case.
Asta's eyes lit up, gripping his knee tightly as she tried to get him to see. "We should just make it happen like Keshel and Prim did, don't you think?"
Molaki whined again. Of course he did. That wasn't a question. But...
