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"Nothing?" He scoffed, insulted that she might want to maybe keep her personal life personal. "Tell me." He demanded, nearly placing his hands on his hips again but, remembering the reaction he'd received to that, remembered in time to cross his arms sulkily instead. "Why are you keeping so much from me? I could help you, you know. I'm not completely useless, you know." He was being rash, turning this into his feelings being hurt, guilt-tripping her.

"Oh, come on!" He sighed, exasperated, "I'm not falling for it. I know you're awake. No one falls asleep that fast! You're being such nikshadae!" He complained, resorting to his old language in his upset.

"Fine." He growled, clenching his fists. "Have it your way. Your back won't scar." He snapped, rubbing it in how well he had helped her, reminding her that without his quick care she might not have a back at all, and then stomping away. There was the sound of him rummaging around. "I'm going out." He told her, not bothering to explain where he was going, "And you better be here when I get back, or you'll regret having ever met me. If you don't already." He added miserably, and feeling like s***, departed out the newly repaired door, leaving her in peace and silence.

Ovaan flew fast and hard, diving in and out of trees to distract his mind. Ungracious, selfish....

Ugh! He landed hard on the ground, landing on his hands and knees, breathing heavily, feeling hopeless.

Ovaan didn't return from his flight until it was nearly morning, and then he came in drained and exhausted. Clean, as he had thrown himself into the spring at one point, but tired. He landed inside his door feeling ready to pass out. Why had he been out so long? What if she'd gotten away? Did she really hate him that much? Why? If she wasn't there...

He finally allowed himself to look around the room. His whole body relaxed at seeing Kelala there on his bed, sound asleep. He approached her with an affectionate smile. "I knew that you'd stay." He murmurred, which was an utter lie as he'd been panicking about it all the way back. He sat down on the bed beside her, noticing that her cheeks were stained with tears and that she was now lying on her back. She'd been tossing around. "Bad girl." He whispered sternly, gingerly touching her back with his hand. "You should have stayed on your stomach." But he was still being gentle and affectionate, just happy that she was still there.

"Shh..." Ovaan murmurred, his hand on her back stilling any further motion she might try to make. "You're still tired. Go back to sleep, Nahleia." He gently stroked her hair, his fingers lightly massaging her scalp to relax her nerves.

She purrs like a kitty! Was Ovaan's first thought as she curled up and fell back asleep. Then he frowned at her sternly, realizing that she was still on her side. Taking her by her shoulder and waist, he gently rolled her onto her stomach. As he did so he realized somewhere in the back of his mind that she was very warm and it would probably be very comfortable to fall asleep right there with her, and maybe even cuddle her...

No no no. That was evil. Those were evil thoughts. Bad Ovaan.

He bit his lip, hard, trying to banish the temptation from his mind. His mind drifted, unwillingly, back through the years. "That is evil, Ovaan." The man had said angrily. "Never, never act this way towards anyone! Understood? If you do evil things, you yourself will be evil. Do you want to be evil, Ovaan? Do you want to be a monster?" And, Ovaan, sobbing with fear and distress, had shaken his head, horrified. Never, never...

He swallowed, shivering, and quickly forced the unpleasant memories back into the deep confines of his mind. No, he wasn't a monster. He refused to be a monster. All he wanted was to help people! Protect them from the beast that could so easily destroy them. And he wanted her to stay here with him. Why was that so hard to get her to do? What was he doing wrong? She said that she liked him, but was that out of pity, or did she really actually care? And who was she to pity him, anyway? It was she who ought to be pitied, with her burnt back and scarred legs...

Her legs! He would heal her legs! That would make her happy! That would make her like him!

He carefully lifted her skirt, adjusting his weight so that he could see the various scars on her skin, some deeper than others. Some cruel, some mere accidents. It was a big job, but he could try.

And so he did, spending the rest of the night mixing salves, applying certain concoctions to certain scars, and then using spells to rejuvinate the growth of her skin. Kelala, in her sleep, would likely only feel bizzarre rushes of warmth in her sleep, rushing through her body, and perhaps a slight sting form the potions, but he kept her heavily sedated. When he was done, he wiped her legs with a scrap of cloth, applied a serum to her back, stumbled across the room to the nest of blankets, and passed out as the sun rose outside, finding it incredibly easy in his exhaustion to sleep. Tomorrow Kelala's back ought to be all better. He would just have to see how well his work on her legs turned out. But that would have to wait.

He would take such good care of her, she would be so happy, that she wouldn't even think of leaving him here alone.