A heart could walk a thousand miles through a body that relied upon it, could pump blood and urge organs into life, could transfer oxygen and nutrients. It was the center of the body, the strongest and most capable organ of any creature. And yet, it was the weakest. The heart was prone to pity and sympathy, to rage and fear. Yet worst of all, the downfall to the mightiest of any beast, the heart was weak to love.

Kaj did not understand those who proclaimed love to be the weakest of all emotions capable of being experienced. It could turn even the smallest of underdogs into a warrior emblazoned with it, could turn a tired mother into a ferocious guardian, and could crumble empires with secrecy and love sprouting in places it ought not to. Yet it was also the most powerful because it could cripple and kill those foolish enough to think it benign. Love was not benevolent. It did not always heal and encompass tired hearts. Rather, when it had tricked the foolish into trusting it, love would whirl and sink its teeth into the tender, aching flesh of the heart it had inhabited. It would tear and rend, destroy everything the poor bastard housing that useless lump of flesh could have counted upon.

Kaj had experienced so many forms of love, he at times doubted there were other shades and sides to the emotion. At times it felt more like an object, a sentient being, than a mere experience caused by chemicals in his brain. There was a reason love was often compared to an arrow, after all. And Kaj had too many puncture wounds to carry on, his heart too sparse and gold for the horrors love adored inflicting upon it.

Why then, he had chosen the Grove to hide away in, was beyond him. Did he want to inflict more pain upon himself? Was he punishing himself? Or was he trying to surround himself with those who had been favored by love, unlike himself?

Even his sister had been torn away from him, his familial love destroyed and his romantic love a laughable matter. Kaj and love had never gotten along, and it ached to know that he was but a pawn on a board of fate.

The king ambled towards one of the willows, tall and ancient, with soft tendrils that formed a sanctuary of silence and privacy. Ducking between the fronds, they kissed his hide and feathers almost apologetically. It would do not good, for even Kaj could not be forgiving in this mannerism. He disappeared within, curling up at the base of the tree, as small as his mountainous form would allow him. A sorrowful sigh escaped him in a rush, and he fell into silence, embracing solitude. Loneliness crawled beside him, seeking his embrace, and he allowed the manifestation to cling to the dredges of his pitiable soul. There was not much left for it to feed upon, anyways.

@[Cirrus]