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For once, Freya didn't want to run away from her fear. She wanted to cling to it, hold fast until it faded on its own. She didn't want to let go of Kettil, even for a moment. And his words, as powerful as they were, unfairly beat against her barriers as they always did, pulling her back down from the brink of despair. But she wanted to remain on that brink, perhaps, just a little longer. She simply didn't have the stubbornness inside of her to do so when he spoke words so filled with love and devotion, they tumbled her back down into his arms.

It just wasn't fair.

Freya let out a long, cleansing breath, as Kettil's words settled deep into her soul. His power over her was absolute, and there was no fighting how easily he made her feel whole again. She thought it should have been harder, more of a struggle, but with Kettil..

Everything just fell into place.

She smiled up at him, and in her smile there was that spark of life that had died that day they'd brought her back to him. It was his, now. His, and his alone.

Only Kettil had the power to make her smile like that.

Freya wanted nothing as much as she wanted to kiss Kettil, at that moment. When he leaned in to kiss her, she held his shoulders in her clenched embrace and pulled him hard, vicious in her passion now that it was all she could use to express herself. She was, just as his private thoughts had realized, a ghoul of extremes. He was the one who pulled away, and she whimpered in dismay, bending her head forward to try and capture his lips again. But they were talking, saying things, and not kissing her. She rolled her eyes and waved her hand, flailing it in a gesture that was meant to indicate their trip could wait.

Remaining right where she was, with Kettil beside her, was her plan for as long as she could get away with it.

Ew. Mimes were gross. Freya's eyes slit in dismay, but her smile remained, fading into a smirk as he continued and nodding her head in agreement. She would follow him anywhere. But she was no mime. It was just.. hard to hear her own voice. She would much rather hear his, instead.

All of her advances were failing, as he fussed at her and kept her from getting more involved passionately. She huffed and blew air against his cheek, pulling away mischievously with a playful smile. She saw his eyes rest on her lips, and his expression changed. She couldn't place it, but she could tell something was wrong. His words did nothing to answer the question; in fact, all he did was make her fall even deeper into the throes of adoration. How could he know that those words, that charming, tender, selfless promise, washed away every insecurity that had built up inside of her? Did he even know-

.. He did know. He must have; he'd been her best friend the whole time, and, when he'd fought with Herryk ..

Freya's heart spasmed painfully at the implications. Was Kettil worried that she would fail him the way she'd failed Herryk? Why wouldn't he be? She was no stronger a ghoul than she was then. Why was this any different? Why would she have any confidence in her ability to keep Kettil unhurt, and unscathed?

She wanted to promise him the world. But her promised meant nothing, did they? She meant nothing.

Freya did not deserve the boil in her arms.

At a loss for words, she curled up inwardly, her fingers reaching out to brush tenderly across Kettil's lips. She never wanted anyone to kiss those lips but her. She knew he wanted the same. He deserved the same. He deserved better than her. Someone worth believing in.

What a moment ago had been a warm and gentle adoration stirring inside of Freya, now turned cold as she stared, horrified at what Kettil was telling her. She had known, vaguely, that this had to do with something Herryk had said - but to lay it out flat, the details that had spurned this train of thought, made a new emotion burn brightly in her tattered little heart.

As much as Kettil was trying to reassure her that he wouldn't react the way Herryk had if she ever kissed another boil, it was the fact that even then, Herryk was holding that flame of jealousy and distrust against her. Even then, when he'd already left her, and all he wanted was to hurt Kettil and make him believe she was unfaithful. Even after how hard she'd worked to become a better person, just so she wouldn't hurt Herryk anymore.

He never let anything go. Except her. He'd let her go. He'd let this whole world go.

Freya pushed herself away from Kettil. She wasn't clutching at him anymore. She stood on her own two feet, and started to pace her room, as boiling rage bubbled up from within her. Her entire face was twisted in destructive anger. She reached her little kitchen, and grabbed the first breakable thing her fingers could touch, before throwing it directly at the wall.

"I HATES HIM."

Her voice rang out loud through the room, a vicious cry that cracked her voice with emotion and pain for saying such a thing. She'd never felt this way about Herryk before. She'd been angry at him so many times, but never in her life had she ever hated the boil. Her heart spasmed with the foreign emotion, burning its brand within her. Even now, he was trying to hurt her. Even gone, he reached out and spoiled the only hope she had of ever being happy. Now, she was angry.

And she was angry with Kettil for letting Herryk's words get to him, too.

She swiveled in place, her brightly burning eyes turning to look at the boil on the floor. "And yeh! yeh thinks I'm goings teh goes around kissings other boils because he tolds yeh, do yeh? I tells yeh one things, I never kissed another boil on purpose except for one, while I was with him. And yeh knows who that boil was, Hooter?" She stormed forward and her finger jutted out, poking against his clavicle painfully. "It was YEH."

She felt the clutch of Kettil's hand pulling her own, and she fell to her knees, more out of the sudden exhaustion that overcame her from feeling so angry all at once, than anything else. She fell beside him, her hand limp in his hold, and sucked in her breath with trepidation at the way he said her name. Kettil did not often get angry, but when he spoke seriously, it was a powerful thing. She held her breath, her anger spiking up just once more at the mention of the idea being planted in his head.

But the truth was, Kettil was demanding that she understand his devotion. He wasn't blaming her for the past, and he wasn't afraid of the future. These were qualities she sorely lacked, and desperately wanted. He simply wanted her to know that, even if she did make mistakes in the future, she wasn't going to have to fear losing him. Kettil trusted her so deeply, so implicitly, that it disoriented her. She had never been trusted like that, ever. Whether she deserved it or not was irrelevent.. the warmth of his trust enveloped her like a thick blanket.

It was all so laughably unnecessary. No man would ever live up to Kettil, now. He had set the bar far, far too high.

It was funny, that Kettil thought of their first kiss when she mentioned it; because Freya had all but forgotten that taudry imitation of a first kiss. She didn't even regard their kisses as real, until the moment she felt his desire pouring into them. That one kiss, the day she'd come to take him out dancing. That had been their first kiss.

The day her lips touched his, and she knew she wanted them there.

She bent down, her face so close there was nothing but a breath keeping them apart, and her eyes met his, flooded with passion.

"My kisses belongs teh yeh." She whispered against the soft skin of his lips, quiet and solid. The only kisses that mattered anymore were the ones that attached emotion to them - and she would never kiss anyone the way she kissed Kettil, for as long as she lived.

Kettils demands thrilled her down to her toes. She smirked gently, eyes thinning as she stared down at the boil while climbing up high enough to get the upper hand, and her lips pressed against the tip of his nose, before returning to his lips.

"Yes, sir." She muttered against his lips, trying not to snicker. "Okays. Yeh takes them all. Now, ja?" She backed up an inch, eyebrows lifting as if she was waiting for him to make good on the demand.

This was why Kettil held her heart so completely in his hands. Somehow, he'd taken the shell of a ghoul that had shattered so completely, no one could have put her back together except for him. And he did. Piece by piece, kiss by kiss, he always did. And he always would.

"Takes them." Freya muttered. "Steals them." Her voice was quiet, and low. "Go on then." Ohh, how she wanted him to steal all of her kisses away. She wanted to lose herself in the feel of kiss after kiss, unending in their tirade against her lips. Please, her insistent fingers begged as they pulled him closer. Please make her forget everything, for as long as he could.

And as soon as she decided that, she pulled away and started to squirm out of his arms, childishly denying both herself and him the only thing they wanted. She scrambled out of his arms and crawled away, cackling maniacally as she tried to crawl under her bed.

Freya had to squirm while completely flat to get under her bed. As such, she was almost trapped there, turning herself around so she could see the boil that looked back in on her with a pout. Her eyes flickered in the darkness, as she wiggled her fingers playfully at him.

Then she made kissing noises.