Blackfeather Woods only a madman likes the pain

When she caught his gaze, he looked back, hard and deep, not blinking once as she told him that she had no happiness. Her life had not been easy, he knew, yet such a powerful string of words still hurt coming from a girl so young, who had so much left in front of her if she willed it so.

A part of him felt humbled by her desire for inflicting pain, drawn to it, even; a part of him wanted to find both of their boundaries, see how much pain he could take, how much pain age could inflict. Yet he doubted it wise for her mental health.

Instead of laying such strange offers upon the table however, Cicero instead said, "What does it contain, then? Is there anything but the pain?" He did not care if she knew he would be there for her; he wasn't asking her in expectation to hear his own name mentioned, for he knew that such silly expectations would only lead to disappointment. He was not even sure what the expected... in truth, he only knew what he feared -- for the answer to his question to be 'yes', even if he doubted one ever felt truly only one emotion at once; but even so the fact that she was feeling it still was meaningful in some way.