Wapun Meadow what does fury want me to do, swallow it?

Icarus watched as she approached cautiously, crimson eyes wary and guarded but otherwise made no movement. He was not scared of her, simply unsure of how to act and as long as she showed no aggressiveness or hostile moves, he would not react with violence either. Instead, he observed coolly as her green eyes moved towards his back leg, towards the leg which bore the three gruesome scars he'd recieved from his master. In truth, Ica was unsure what those marks represented, if they even represented anything, but he knew they were of importance to his former master and that they were no random scars, especially since they were so deeply embedded into his flesh.

Icarus watched almost curiously as she appeared to deflate, her body no longer tense and the anger sparking in her eyes vanishing. A frown creased her brows and after a moment, she admitted to have anger issues. "It's alright," the assassin says with a tilt of his head. "I understand," he closed the distance between them with slow, purposeful steps, ready to stop if she showed any sign of discomfort. He stopped a feet away from her, eyes analysing her with unidentifiable emotion. "Don't look so sad," Icarus murmured, not really understanding what was happening with her but noting that she was neither happy or angry anymore. If she allowed him to, he would touch his nose hesitantly to her cheek before abruptly withdrawing, unsure of his motions. In truth, his actions held no meaning to it, and were nothing than motions he remembered from watching his targets and now, simply repeated.