What is love but the projection of affection onto another in desperate hopes that they will return it so that your soul would not crumble under the crippling weight of loneliness? How does she know what he says is true, when she doesn't believe that love is something pure and good anyways? It's hard for a damaged heart to beat for two when it can hardly beat for one. He embodies all that is good and light, while she is his counterpart in darkness and destruction. Shouldn't he be the wiser, older than her as he is? Shouldn't he be able to recognize the coldness of her soul, despite her innocent appearance? He did not deserve all she gave him, and would give him in the future. She wanted only to flee, for surely breaking his heart now would save him from agony later. At least then he would be able to move on and be happy, not bound to her side for eternity. Already she felt she was some sort of siren, dragging him closer, as she sadly watched him come ever closer, already knowing she would have to see him crash upon her shores and drown.

His smile is unassuming, forgiving. She doesn't deserve forgiveness. Something had gone wrong with her, somewhere. He was clinging to the ghost of her, the memory of a shy girl with a soft voice and hesitant smile. The afterimage that only he could see. That wasn't her. He was in love with a dream, when she was a nightmare.

"You are too hopeful, Tingal. Don't expect of me what I can't give," she said softly, face weary. Preach of love that exists in every heart, and you will discover that it is a lie. All she felt was loneliness, even with someone so dedicated at her side. She could never appreciate him as someone else could. How many wounded, neglected dames wept for company, for love? And here she was, tainted and ungrateful, with a stag at her side that could save them from the pit of despair into which they had fallen or been pushed.

More and more he professes, declaring her his everything, his world, his existence. She can barely handle it, her eyes are aflood with tears but she will not let them fall. She is strong, she will not falter, not in his presence or in anyone's. "Hating you is impossible. But the more you raise me upon your pedestal...the more you will be disappointed when you realize how wrong you are." Her voice is choked, and if her shoulders are tight and bodice rigid as if strung by corset across her frame, then nobody could blame her. Emotion was foreign to her, she had severed all connections possible to the debilitating source of it, and here she was being presented the purest of sorts by someone she tentatively cared for. She deserved none of it.

Inwardly she whimpered as he stepped closer, forcing herself not to take a step back. You have hurt him enough, she growled at herself internally. Let him at least have this. "I love you." And gods, what was she supposed to say to that? Her throat convulsed, and she looked at his smiling face instead of into his honest eyes. "I don't know what you...what you want to hear." How many times would she have to break his heart before he realized she would only ever hurt him?

i am the designer of my own catastrophy;
an unbelievably orchestrated...
and beautifully choreographed...
illusion

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