Adrienne nibbled her lower lip and glanced over when Kaz gave a shrug and declared that there was no point in trying to deny the rabbit she held being his anymore. Seeing the smirk that crossed his face as she held the plush in front of her, still trying to figure out what to do without being too obvious about it, she was also holding it with the same care she held anything else that seemed delicate or precious to her: like it was made of glass. So when Kaz commented on how she was holding it, not only did she blush, but she had a short moment of panic when he positioned her into the proper way of holding it, like she would break it if she tried to pull it close.
However, it didn't shatter and soon after he pulled her arm over to cuddle the bunny close, she began to relax, especially after he dropped a soft kiss upon her head. Glancing down at Hoppy as Kaz spoke, she took what he said into consideration and was finally able to relax her arms around the toy, not really feeling silly, just different. She'd never done anything like this before and that much was very apparent. She could imagine the little boy she'd met all those years ago, cuddling up with this same bunny every day for naps and then sleep. It made a small smile curve her lips just before he asked her what she'd meant by the words she'd never even meant to say aloud.
Adrienne bit at the inside of her cheek again, trying to stave off the burning in her throat or the hollowness in her stomach. It was a different sort of grief from what she'd felt toward Zekeal. While both had been intense, they had been in different ways. Zekeal had already been dead, just passing on, and she'd only had a short boat ride to get to know him. He'd managed to earn a firm place in her heart before he left, so it had been horribly painful to see him go. It had shocked her with the pain she'd felt, but it hadn't been her first experience with losing someone. Finally, she released the bite she'd taken on her cheek and sighed; Kaz's secure, strong arms around her, which tightened after her sigh, reassured her in ways she couldn't even begin to explain. What she could explain was what she'd meant by her accidental admittance.
"I wasn't alone for the entirety of my human years before the Iron Koi, the Moon Dust, and the Selene," she finally said quietly, her fingers absently stroking one of the stuffed rabbit's silky soft ears as she spoke. "Actually, I wasn't alone for maybe two weeks, tops. The rest of it, I was, and I'd never realized before just how lonely I was, even as a goddess. There were two weeks that I had someone to talk to and sit with."
After a moment, Adrienne decided at last that she couldn't exactly skirt the subject, as hard as it was to talk about. "I stayed near harbors and shorelines, always, after Nexus first attacked me. It was a comfort and a precaution and one day, a stray dog decided to follow me. At first I wasn't at all attentive to him, I figured he'd get tired of me and leave, but he didn't. When I settled down for the night in a cave, he came right in with me, lay down, and put his head in my lap." That concept seemed to baffle her, and it definitely had at the time, if only because she'd never really been close to anything or anyone before then.
She swallowed against her suddenly dry throat. "He did that every night after, for the two weeks he tagged along with me. We starved together, traveled together, and I talked to him sometimes, even though he couldn't talk back. And we always slept like that, he always lay right down next to me and rested his head on my legs."
Her arms tightened a little around the plush. "He was older when he found me, his muzzle was white around the edges. And it got to the point that I'd have to carry him every few hours. He'd just tire out. I helped him eat, especially after I figured maybe he was just sick and he'd get better. I didn't understand how temporary things could be, not really, until then," she murmured softly, her eyes far away. "When a man tried to take advantage of me in an alley one night and managed to get the upper hand, the dog attacked him and made him leave. But it took the rest of what energy he had..."
During her story, Adrienne had gradually brought her knees up against her chest, curling into a small ball, her arms wound around the toy. Her body was a bit tense from withheld emotion; at the time, she'd been almost angry. At the man for attacking her and hurting her dog, at the fleetingness of mortality, and at herself for assuming because she met the dog that day that she was owed at least a few years with him.
She hadn't cried openly, just pulled the animal into her lap after sitting down. She'd slept in that alley that night, knowing it wasn't the best idea, but feeling as though her insides were newly made of concrete. She couldn't leave him. She'd only managed it in the morning, carrying the dog's body to the shore and using every ounce of her energy to give him a proper burial.
The following day, she'd jumped ship to the Dame de Perles and tried to shut the entire experience out, only to start crying in the hull at feeling the ghost of that soft weight on her legs, not really there, but not absent either. "I'd never really lost anything, anyone, before," she admitted, not knowing why she was telling him this seeing as he hadn't asked. "I wasn't alone and then I was again and I had no idea what to do."