[Ivar lets himself sink into the instincts of the dog, the simple nature and innate optimism. It makes this emotional state easier to be broken down into little easily-digestible chunks. He whines again, low in his throat, as Athelstan rubs behind his ears. It's easier to talk when he knows no one else will overhear what he has to say.]
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<Everyone leaves me eventually. I can't bear it.>