[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

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Euphemia was, for all intents and purposes, a strong soul. Emotional to a fault, sure – but for all the hardship she must endure, she did so with a stiff upper lip and tail held high. For those hardships she did not have to endure, Euphemia nurtured a keen sense of gratitude. For the most part, Euphemia felt as if this was enough in life. She needn’t guilt herself for the ways her life was simple and clean, just as she needn’t let her many emotional wounds fester.

There was something that registered as strange in Euphemia’s mind. Even an ingenue such as she could recognize a sense of arrogant pride in his voice, as he did as she bade and recounted each of his poor choices. He seemed to relish in the thrill of danger – and that was what made her question if perhaps she had actually suffered worse experiences than he. Ric seemed to handle his anxiety poorly.

For Euphemia had much to lose, and understood well the pain she would face if she lost it.

And here this man was, inviting into his life copious amounts of pain, loss, and suffering. Did he not feel? Did he have nothing close to his heart that he wished to protect? Was he so inexperienced in the loss of love that he sought to play out its most egregious moments, which were so eerily similar to the hopes and dreams that she relished and kept always close in mind? She, too, thought of these things: what it would feel like to love another so deeply to fight bears and great fires and navigate the shifting earth to protect them.

Only love, or the severe lack of it, could drive someone to such behaviors.

The Maiden could recognize that they both desired intensity, and their only difference was that Ric acted on his desires and she did not. As he had said himself, these were not just stories. These were him.

Fascinating.

If she had known that this was the first time in the conversation that Ric had felt somewhat truly interested in her, she might have found it less fascinating and proceeded to recuse herself, but instead she listened on, endeared and drawn in by the intensity of his tales. He seemed to like retelling them, and Euphemia did easily assume that many of these were hyperbole – in his own weird way, he was trying to impress her. After all, it made no sense to kill those you claimed to love.

Unable to move past that point, Euphemia furrowed her brow and looked up at him with eyes of a woman who was internally battling her way through several conflicting learnings. At the moment, they all astounded her and kept her firmly planted in that spot. She needed to know more. Why didn't he and this female simply... break up?

If you loved her… the silver shewolf questioned demurely, hoping he would not take offense, Why would you try to kill her?

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