Blackfeather Woods only a madman likes the pain

There was a moment of pregnant pause between the pair of them in which Kendra seemed confused and conflicted by his actions. He remained on the floor, in silent surrender, a thing she seemed to sense. Her face betrayed that she wished to continue the fight, to shred him apart, but he could not before he knew her motives for engaging in it. He would let her blow off steam, but did she wish only to hurt something, someone, or was it aimed at him? And did this truly help her? The pain was still vivid in her every move, in her very face, so he could not imagine that this was helping much so far, not in the way that she wished it to.

"Kendra can hurt Cicero as much as she likes, if it helps," he said; an offer that he had made before, although never with as heavy implications hidden between the lines as now. "But Kendra needs to think if it will help, if it will make her feel better. If it is worth it. Kendra — you — need to know that Cicero will always be there, he will not leave by free will. Only death could rob him away." And he rolled to expose his stomach further, turning his head to expose his throat if she wished it so. His mismatched eyes sought her face, for he knew his words could be as volatile and painful as the acidic herbs he would use upon himself. And if she sought to end his life, then at least he wanted her to look into his eyes and see, in some way, the glimmer of affection that he carried for her.

He was not even sure why he was doing this, but perhaps he hoped that offering her such a ridiculous thing as — between the lines — taking his life, she would see how much he cared for her, that he would give his life for her. Or perhaps he truly was a madman who had made amends that his life would end at some point, and it may as well be by the teeth of one who had gone as mad as he.