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One did not truly realize how much she had kept such a well of emotions pent up and locked away and still carry on in her usual routines with the occasional adjustments wherever need. Even just those several moments ago before leaving the cemetery had she not fully relented her emotions despite the tears that pour down from sterling sights? Perhaps the young maiden had become far too guarded without realizing the consequences that would inevitably make its unwelcomed presence known. All the same the words spoken by the paladin were that of comfort and reiteration. Sullen gaze would look upon the lycan with the forlorn sullying her features.

Apologies my lady, I am a creature of habit but I did not mean it as a manner of faith. One can turn to their divine, a friend, or merely someone standing right before them, Her gaze would droop in unison of her shoulders offering only a nod of acknowledgement. Words she knew to be true yet why was it so difficult to practice what one preached? ….whatever judgments lie in store beneath their will. You will hear none from me. She would gently chastise herself for fumbling over bitter assumptions though ever grateful for the reassurance that there was no means to have her indulge upon divinities she did not wholly believe.

He spoke of conviction towards those spreading rumor, a sully upon her name that she – for several years now, merely turned a blind eye to. She could not pin point faces as it proved to be a collection of elders who felt they posed higher authority above all or the young hearts still learning the ways of an old law. Of course, words posed a heavier weight in more trying times; “Coen had done the same,” she whispered softly. “Though I suppose his passing meant so too did it invite the resurfacing of idle gossip.” she murmured softly shaking her head dismissively. “I pose no ill regard for any, it just—” her voice trailed, unable to finish for her words had left her in the trickle of liquid salt weeping from her visage.

A cloth of silk was presented in offering by the paladin seeming unbothered by her wallow of emotion. Be it that he may have long since grown numb by such actions or other reasons beneath them, she was ever thankful for what she only hoped was understanding. Still, guilt remained like a festered wound as she hesitated to retrieve the silk. In doing so, plush fingertip would gently brush over the wrappings that bound a wounded arm. I have already said it once before but speaking of what weighs on the mind only helps to lighten the load. Seeking help when it is needed most will never make you a burden. It is not an endeavor one needs to fear.

Sonata was quiet for what seemed – to her at least – like an eternity. Her expression softened whilst sterling sight settled on the silk cloth in a pause. “Thank you… Ívarr, truly.” her voice sounding small as gaze would slowly lift to meet his that which she could not fully read or convey. She was fine with that and would in turn, continue her trek as the school yard soon came into view. “I cannot begin to place into words how truly grateful I am of your company this eve,” she sighed sounding almost dejected. The dejection was not directed at him – perhaps to nothing in particular save for the negative emotions that clouded over her head like a never-ending storm. She looked to the building with a feeling of unease as if the very structure seemed to loom over her with intimidation. Darkness swelled within those walls though only recently occupied since the news of Coen’s passing. Perhaps mentioned before but she could not bring herself to stay with a family who needed their time and space to grieve the loss of their son. To invade a space that was once a room belonged to the knight, who was she to occupy?

“Here,” she hummed bleakly, arms falling at her sides whilst head canted towards the school aiming up at the loft. “Would you like a cup of tea before you retire for the eve, Ívarr? It is not much to offer but I wish not to leave you empty handed,”