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02-21-2016, 12:22 AM
He answered her and it was if she was surprised that he had admitted to the plague that rested within the minds of the nations. She wasn't at the same time, for when she wants to know, it has been little that she has been left wondering. Katerina doesn't stop at no, for no is only more encouragement to keep searching, poking. She had seen this case before, had watched it destroy love, light, and horses, had experienced it herself. It seemed that she had never gotten over it. That this plague was always there, ever-changing to taunt her however it wished, the worst parasite of them all. She had learnt to let the sharps of it's needles become dull and blunt, but she had the time of decades on her side, and still Katerina was a mere novice. Her memory did not expand to those days of mourn that she had felt pain so vividly, but still, she knew of the pain that he felt, the "not okay" he explained.
"It accounts for something, you are right. But Tembovu, if life is lived off such a moto, does one not get tried of simply counting breath? Do you not wish, strive to soar, to live, to love?" She askes, wishing to reach out, to feel the warmth underneath the corded muscle and tan cloak. Katerina does not want to see such shielded pain, such carefully guarded walls. She only wants to comfort him. She does not move though, for the silver only knows the character that rests within blue orbs, but she does not know the exceptions, the Tembovu of the King. She does not know if she will ever get to see that, but she hopes, hopes with all that she has, for if all he needed was a little care, Katerina would be fulfilled to have shown him.
@Tembovu
