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As neither Freya nor Kettil had taken the offered mugs of tea, the witch retracted them, her kind expression dissolved in the steam that rose from their darkly reflective surfaces. Already bitter from her shards, the fact that neither of them took the small bit of help she offers only furthers the nasty sensation. If they wouldn't take tea, if they wouldn't take help, then why bother? Instead the witch only dims and lets her shoulder slump, dejected on the edge of the bed with nothing to do. There was no place for her here, for she was and continues to be an interloper not even bothering to wear a costume that would link her to the friends around her.
With her eyes trained on the colored water in her lap, Belladonna missed the look Freya gave Mort and totally ignored the Valkyrie when she sat up. It wasn't until she reached across the space that separates them for him that the witch looks up. She is forced to lean back, away from the hand that finds companionship in her boilfriend, but not in the witch. Whatever bitterness had begun to bubble in her stomach sticks a bad taste on her tongue and the witch almost opens her mouth to make some awful comment when Freya speaks first.
Surely that odd noise is the witch's voice that questions what her fellow reaper has said, but no... No that, that high pitched ring in her ears, for once, is not her own voice but just the odd culmination of realizing she has been lied to with an exempt in information and the realization that Mort, who has hardly been back from death over a month, has suffered dissipation.
And once again, Belladonna didn't know.
Not even a glance was spared to her with the revelation of this horrible information, neither Zombie nor Valkyrie or Muut felt it necessary to invite the witch into this, and why should they? Each of them had had an experience with the lost boil and she hadn't even met him. It was like joining a wake for a distant relative a scareling had only heard of or seen in pictures.
If it had not been the height of societal scandal, Belladonna would have thrown both mugs against the wall just to watch them break.

Instead, she only clutched her fingers harder around them, idly wandering if her weak little grip could even put a crack in the ceramic. Should the others pass her a glance they would only see a small ghoul with furrowed eyebrows and a nastily turned down mouth, as though she too were upset by all this information rather than angry at everyone for finding her unworthy. It was Mort's angry voice that made her momentarily look up and for just a few seconds she softened. He'd been hurt by one of his dearest friends, an irreparable rip made to the other and now Herryk had given up? It was one thing for Israfel to sacrifice himself for a group of others, but... To just give up like that? A glance was passed to Freya, to her desolate expression. Had she too been strangled by her former lover?
The witch swallowed, dislodged some of that wretched feeling from her throat and found it replaced with guilt. But guilt was easy to turn to anger and as she passed her gaze to Kettil, the feeling that once again she was not welcome rose unbidden. Once again she was the odd one out.
Mort's words meant nothing to her, rallied no feelings of comradery or retribution within her. If a group should try to rescue him, she'd only come along for... What? Another soldier, another bit of help? Otherwise she would be useless. The boil wouldn't even know who she was.
Jack damn, why was she even here? Just because she was friends with them? Fat lot of good it was doing her at the moment. Better to be silent and sullen, rather than open her mouth and betray how very hurt she was that no one could trust her enough with this information beforehand.

Freya had never heard Mort use that kind of language. It quieted her, and she felt small, curling inward as his rage bubbled over. There was a time, long ago, where the mere idea of someone hurting Herryk-

No, she supposed, as her hair fell over her face like a curtain. No. That time had passed.

"Nobody goes after him." A soft voice whispered out. "I can't lose anybody else. Not now, not ever." Her hand reached out, and clutched at the corner of Mort's shirt, but otherwise she remained curled up, suddenly feeling the ache of loss at Kettil's movement. She peeked out to make sure he hadn't gone far, and watched him soothe Bella's pain. It was hard for her to understand, as she looked at Bella's face. Was she that enraged that Mort had been hurt by Herryk? Or was there more that she didn't know?

Her blue eyes stared curiously at the ghoul, round and watery with the struggle of emotion.

The sound of her name makes her look up, a bit startled to realize that someone had noticed she was still in the room. Kettil was right, for going after the boil would only result in someone else getting hurt. When Freya chimed in that no one should go, the witch felt a little easier, for she had been worried the Valkyrie would want to lead the charge. Freya was a sweet ghoul, but the witch knew she was brash in action. To know that she was being cautious made Belladonna sigh in relief and made some of her anger uncoil. It was still there, wound tight and hissing in her heart, but it was beginning to loose its steam.
And when Mort apologizes and then Kettil asks for her smile, it breaks altogether.
Anger is not an emotion that has any substance in the witch. It will always be a fleeting, inconsistent thing that vanishes like smoke when she tries to wrap her hands around it. This revelation makes her feel less guilty about having been angry at the three who hurt, if only by a little. With a sigh she feels the face she's been wearing crack and after what seems ages, she turns a small, hesitant smile up to Kettil.
"I am sorry, I did not mean to..." But she doesn't bother finishing that sentence. It doesn't matter what she apologizes for, its not enough to mend any of the wounds these three people she cares deeply for all share. They are linked by their sadness and she is the interloper, but at least she can offer some semblance of warmth.

One mug is pressed into the Muut's hand and she stands up on tip toe to press a small kiss to his cheek. Carefully, for her feet are still cold from all that snow and her whole body feels ready to crack, she moves over to Freya. The other mug is set down on the floor nearby and the witch bends to also press a kiss to her cheek. The smile she has fallen into widens for the ghoul, and she lets a hand that is still uncomfortably warm from holding the tea squeeze Freya's shoulder. Later, when it is just the two of them, the witch will draw her close for a hug and hopefully let the Valkyrie properly mourn her lost lover. It is one thing to mourn a friend, but a ghoul cannot fully bring the loss of a former lover to her current one.
Silently Belladonna promises this with her smile and touch and continued offering of tea. She knows that loss, perhaps not as acutely, but in a way knows what must be done. Kindness will always be extended to her friend, but for now the witch tucks it away and saves it for later.

Lastly she straightens and turns to face Mort. For a second her anger tries to resurrect, but its flimsy and falls when she pushes a foot forward and steps toward him. With his head down he can't possibly see her approach, so she does her best to side step his gaze before she sits down next to him and places a gentle hand over his shoulder.
"Whatever any of you need, just let me know." She speaks up as softly and as kindly as she can manage. The words go for all of them, but she smiles at each in turn, saving Mort for last and leaning over to finally press a kiss to his shoulder.
As always, she would do her best to smile and bring what warmth she could to her loved ones. She would be stable for them when they could not, and press kindness to their hearts when they broke.

Everyone seemed to agree that staying was the right option.. and that put Freya at enough ease to fall back into the bed, curl up, and close her eyes. If anyone of them tried to leave, she would fuss, but otherwise, she eventually fell into a sleep of fitful dreams.