Things had been rocky, she knew. Whether it was her or him, she did not know and it did not matter. Never had they fought, yet never had they had any reason to; no reason in which to quarrel as husband and wife did. It bothered her, and unlike she should, she felt oddly detached to be truthful. She did not want to, for she loved Kove and yet something, something was not as right as it should be. Something misplaced, undetermined yet ignored and overlooked. The woman refused to believe that it was unfixable, yet, she could not help feeling unloved in the way she wanted to. Nemesis had bore his children, and such prizes they were, and yet, knowingly to her he had sought out solace elsewhere in the form of someone so unlike her. The horrid thing was, the woman could hardly bring herself care, if she did. 

Traveling at slow pace, the sought out her husband yet roamed to nowhere; taking sweet time strolling in hope that she would not be the first to come across him, rather the opposite. It was not that she actively ignored the man, but simply, avoided his presence where it was not necessary. The woman was a monster, and yet, Kove was the only one who could put up with her. 

She did not deny him the touch he sought, but she remained frigid; the shimmering pain in her eyes the only indication that she had not completely adapted to the cold mask she showed only to the strangers that lurked outside their borders. As he spoke, she found herself internally cringing for there was so much she wanted to say, to yell, but could not bring herself to do so. He was blissfully ignorant of her emotional dilemma, and in hindsight, she preferred it stay that way. Except, it could not. "But you haven't," How could she not blame him? What was the cause of his ignorance towards her when they shared the same bed each night? Perhaps it was not simply his fault, and maybe it did not matter. Truthfully, she missed him more than she cared. When the stiffening awkwardness of her form begun to feel misplaced, she sighed, leaning in to bury her nose within the folds of his neck. With that, she no longer found the need to feel angry, as if simply by his touch her problems drifted away. Except, they did not and no sooner was she brought back to earth. Pulling away from the enticing trap of his scent, she cast her eyes away, unable to fully let herself fall once again. Yet, she knew what would occur. He would ask her what was the matter, and she would be unable to answer; she did not know herself well enough to do so. Silent, she awaited his response, both wishing it would not come and desperate to hear him speak.

"I do miss Qilaq," Peering eyes turned away. It was something that had been weighing on her mind for some time, though had been pushed to the back of her thoughts to avoid the grief that would come with it. To her knowledge, the girl was dead, and though she was sure her disappearance had nothing to do with Kove, her husband had been as equally responsible for the child's survival. Something had happened, she was sure of it; the unresolved issue was one that had put a block in her mind for some time. Perhaps it was the same block that had put a strain on their relationship; the woman was eager to believe it was and not purely by her own ignorance. "Do you?" Of course he did; the inquiry was a scapegoat to find what was buried underneath. Never would she outright admit to any problems, not even to whom she shared the problems with. Her pride was far to grand to submit to ideas of personal failure; failing to be the wife she was supposed to be, burying her problems under the distraction of her kids. It was something she admitted to nobody, not even Kove; yet another problem among the many that had surfaced to her.

The topic of their conversation shifted, transitioning roughly from their missing child to their relationship. He sought her eyes, to lock his gaze with hers, but was not given the opportunity to do so. With her gaze averted, he could only watch her and wait to see if she might look at him. And when he could wait no longer, he glanced elsewhere, focusing his sight on the space beyond her. For a long moment, he was silent, unable to decide on how he wanted to proceed. She had a point; they no longer operated as a single unit, and a part of him even doubted that they ever truly had. When he looked at her, there stirred within his chest something, but he wasn’t too sure anymore that it was love. With a lengthy sigh, he reached out to her, hoping to run his muzzle through the fur along her neck. “I don’t know what you want,” he admitted. “Do you want to continue to be my wife? To spend more time with me?” He pulled himself away, returning to his previous spot where he then sat. His eyes, void of emotion for he had hidden it all away, rested on her, urging her to look up—to look at him.

“I don’t know how to care for you,” was his reasoning, voice low. “I didn’t look for you, but you haven’t looked for me, either.” It was the truth, a realization that he had made himself blind to up until that point. He had cared for her once, and perhaps he still did deep down, but she offered him nothing to allow for those feelings to grow. She was not Scarlett—she did not operate in the same manner as the now lifeless albino, nor did she offer to him the same affections. They were husband and wife, but he could feel as little love from her as he was sure she felt from him.