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The small noise made by his breath had Belladonna prepared for any and everything, and when he rose his eyes to peer over his arms and knees at her, it was with a strange ache that she sighed with relief and saw that his eyes had turned back to green. She wanted to smile and cheer and thank Hecate that he was alright. But as she could only see his eyes, and not his mouth, she refrained from everything and only offered him a small smile, accompanied with a relieved sigh.
"Not your fault." Belladonna whispered back, one hand reaching out to brush some hair from his forehead. "You were all funny colored, not you."
Unsure of what else to do, the witch leaned forward and pressed another kiss to his forehead.

"Where are your glasses? I'll get them for you." She offered, hoping the other Mort had been lying and that he did in fact need them. It was true that she had grown attached to them, but she was also hoping that he would let her know what else he needed, if he needed anything. Still she could not get into his head, so she didn't know what he needed. But she was ready to be patient or stubborn, whichever the occasion called for.
All those jumbled up emotions had vanished in a flash, curled back into the witch where they patiently waited to be dealt with. She'd take all day if that would fix this, especially her Mort, now that he was back and all her's.

On one hand, the witch couldn't really blame him for not wanting his glasses. Certainly she looked a fright, all ripped and torn and disheveled. It would have been better had this been planned, or at least wanted by both sides, but it was made all the worse by the lack of full consent. Shyly, in case he might see, the witch ducked her head and let a finger brush her lips, checking for any stray blood. She was free of that, thank jack, but her lips were swollen from the passion, though thankfully not a frightful amount and nothing more than any normal girl kissed too roughly would have had.
The witch uttered a soft note of agreement, not really sure what else to say. Hecate knew the number of times she had fallen apart in front of him, so she kept her face set and soft. If he should deem her worthy of seeing that one small part of him where everything was destroyed, Belladonna could handle it. She had seen a glimmer of it once before, after they both confessed to having Insanity tinged dreams, and while it was not pleasant, the witch also knew the conviction in which she felt for him.
For Mort, she would do anything.

So he DID fight a Hunter!
With concern and soft fingers that curled in his hair in hopes of soothing him, Belladonna listened to his stilted words. The fact that he was stuttering, not saying everything clearly and left off in strange places filled the witch with such a sense of relief she almost cried. But not that, anything but that.
"What did you want to know?" She asked softly, afraid such a prompt might send him back into a lapse of quiet and shaking.
Instead, she was distracted by his concern for her.
For a brief flash of a moment, the witch wanted to make a joke, to make light of the situation. Maybe it hadn't caught up with her yet, maybe later that night she would dream of him with too sharp fingers that tore at her skin and asked for something she couldn't give, not because she didn't want to but because she wasn't ready, but for now... For now it was something that could be overcome.
"I am fine, totally alright. Its you I'm worried about." Hopefully that was the proper answer to the question he had left unfinished.

Glad to have found something that he enjoyed, or at least found somewhat comforting, the witch quickly turned more of her energy into combing through his hair, carefully and gently. Fingertips brushed down toward his neck, across the little stitch on the top of his head, and everywhere in between, uncertain but still hoping to help.
Quietly, not even making a noise that she was listening, Belladonna watched him and nodded when necessary. Before she had known that what had happened was the fault of his 'Death Knight Duties', but with confirmation attached, the witch couldn't help the anger that bubbled up. She kept it contained and did not speak of it, but still she was not happy. There was little she could do about it, which made matters worse.
Surprise colored her face when he seemed apologetic at scarring the first Hunter, and for a moment Belladonna let herself consider this idea, but he continued and she vowed to return to it later.
It was bothersome that the witch had been made to promise not to visit the Haunted House alone, because it as dangerous, because she could get hurt, because of any number of reasons, but that Mort, the brave knight got to swan around and not have to keep the same promises. Belladonna tried not to sigh as he looked so apologetic, but she wasn't convinced it was for that. It wasn't fair that he got to be special, chosen while she had to sit around and just be... Boring. Ordinary. Nothing.

"So what was that... Another you? He acted wholly opposite." Was her final reply, her fingers still at work. "Are you alright now? You look so tired... And you still have wounds... Do you want to lie down?"
Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, all things considered, but it wasn't as though the witch was going to crawl into bed with him. Not that she didn't want to, of course, but all things considered, she rather figured he didn't want a thing to do with her.
It was frustrating to think that perhaps if that was an opposite him, that the opposite of what he wanted was her. And after they had come so far, Belladonna still found a seed of doubt planted within her. It was more than frustrating, really.

Though she kept up her massage, it slowed as he explained more and the witch nearly stopped altogether when he said her name. She looked straight at him, unsure if he could even see how worried she was. Without his glasses, he was just in a blurry world with nothing to ground him but her voice. For a moment she thought it was going to be alright, but then he buried his face and asked the question she was dreading.
Lips pursed and suddenly angry, Belladonna stopped her fingers and instead dipped them to the bottom of his jaw and attempted to raise his head. When she could see his face, even if he couldn't see her's, she took a breath.
"I did fight back. But Mort, how do you expect me to fight back when you ask something of me?" A thumb brushed against his cheek and the witch felt herself falling, into what she couldn't name. "What was I to do? Say no and run away and have you come back in an hour and apologize? Its better for me to see this, to know for certain that it wasn't you... That you couldn't control that."

Maybe she could have told him she was seconds away from burning him, from tossing a little fire his way to show she wasn't going to go down without a fight, but as fragile as he was, she didn't want to push it. If he pressed, she'd tell but for now she left it at that. The witch cast about for something else to say, something else to alleviate his worries and came up with nothing. What could she say? What could she possibly add that wasn't something along the lines of 'When you're not taken over by the opposite of yourself, mind doing that again? It really turned me on', because that was simply not acceptable.

The fact that he didn't fight made the witch brighten a bit, but then he kept going. Was he... Was he trying to blame her for this? That was ridiculous! The blame shouldn't be placed on anyone. Not on him, not on her. Why was he still harping on her for not running? Why didn't he understand? After everything she had done and how many times she'd cried for him and fought him so hard, why was he just... Not understanding?
"I was enjoying it. But not because it was him or because he was rude, because it was you. Hecate, Mort. I... I couldn't be sure it wasn't you. He spoke with your voice and used your body and your image, just all strangely colored... How was I supposed to know?" Belladonna let his head fall back, but she was getting all jumbled up again and in an effort not to cry, she bit her lip. Which was a bad idea because it was still raw, but she accepted the self inflicted pain as a welcome old friend she hadn't visited for months. "How am I supposed to know when your Knightly Duties stretch to making you something different than yourself?"

Her voice hitched and the witch had to take a hand away from him and dig her fingernails into her palm to keep from crying.
"I can't know anything about what you do... I don't get to learn the secrets and when something goes wrong you expect me to abandon you?" Maybe that was what hurt so much. The fact that he wanted to go this alone, wanted no one's help, not even her's.
Just as she was about to break skin, Belladonna let go of herself and looked down to her palm. Four little red marks stared back at her and in a soft, mumbled voice that she wished she could take back, she asked, "Did you not enjoy it, then?" It wasn't said with menace or anger, just a little sad. A little disappointed. A little hurt.

For whatever reason, Belladonna had expected him to agree with her. They had been so chaste and he so embarrassed that she had simply deduced that he didn't want her like that. So with a bit of surprise she looked at her boilfriend, and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Unsure of what to say or do, the witch noticed his hands and gently attempted to pry them from his own arms. She may be able to p***k herself with needles to ascertain that she was alive, she could dig marks into her skin to stop from crying, she she could harm herself in any number of ways, but she certainly wouldn't let him do it. Hopefully she just got to him in time before his undead strength kicked in.
Regardless, the witch listened, her hands on him, any part of him she could touch. Maybe if she could keep contact, she could help him understand whatever it was she was trying to say.

All the witch could do was nod softly, feeling altogether too helpless. Every other time she had been able to say something that brought him out of his despair, at least a little. Now there seemed absolutely nothing.
"I know. I'm sorry I didn't fight you harder at first. Right before you changed I was going to stop it, I really was. I just..." She heaved a sigh and dropped her forehead to his knees, tired of knowing he couldn't see her face, couldn't see her expressions. It felt like talking to a wall. "I don't think you have to go this alone. I keep telling you I'll help, I'll do what I can but..."
There was no possible way she could finish her sentence. To this creature who she would sacrifice herself for, there was no way she could tell him that she thought he'd rather go it alone.

And she wasn't trying to fight him, she really wasn't, but...
"I know it was under wrong circumstances, but if you enjoyed it... Don't feel so bad." Here Belladonna huffed a sigh, but left her head down. "You hardly touch me, besides to hold hands or when we cuddle and then you do what you want, and I tell you I want it too but..." She pursed her lips and softly shook her head. "I don't think I understand. I'm sorry. Just... Forget all that. Forget I said anything. I'm sorry..."
It was a failsafe, that if things went wrong she could just blame herself and everything would be alright.

The space of time in which he didn't speak, Belladonna only sat there, head bent and waiting. That mixed up yarn feeling was back, only it shouldn't be here with her Mort and she felt like a traitor for feeling that way. It just wasn't fair.
When his hand grabbed for her, Belladonna lifted her head just in time to be pulled toward him. For a moment she sat there, his eyes large and right there and so green and black and right. Though it was difficult, the witch managed not to blink her own pink eyes and instead stare at him, memorizing the little specks in his own.
When he began to tremble and his forehead hit her's, she finally let her own eyes close. But as he spoke she pulled his knees down and crawled into his lap, helping herself to his chill and invading his personal space. All the things he said were so silly, so insignificant, so frustrating.

With a sigh Belladonna's hands reached up and lightly touched his jaw, her eyes sweeping open to look at him.
"You don't frustrate me. Yes, I am frustrated but its not you. Its this situation." It could certainly be argued that it was his fault the situation was even a problem, but Belladonna would have waved that off and ignored it. "And you can put as much on me as you need. I am here for you and to help you. I am your light." The pad of her thumb brushed against the edges of his facial hair, glad for the sensation. "I know you're trying. I know, love."
That word had popped up, had been a sweet antidote on her tongue to all the insanity of the day. Belladonna didn't even bother to let her mind trip over it, she just said it and moved on.

As for everything else, the witch moved her mouth dangerously close to his but only gave him the weakest of smiles.
"I don't want him. I hated the way he spoke and he was arrogant. I missed how you talk, I missed how you get flustered, I missed your glasses. I missed your blue and your green eyes and how tender you are. I want you." If she had to say it forevermore, then the witch could perch where she would and say it everyday. She would sing it from the treetops as she sailed on her broom, she would whisper it to him during class, she would wake up in the morning and text it to him. Whatever it took to get through all that electricity fuzzing up his brain.
Satisfied that she had fully explained herself, Belladonna allowed herself to push just a little and press a kiss to him.

Glad that her push hadn't warranted a negative reaction, Belladonna let herself melt into the kiss, so grateful for the chill that touched her face, that graced her. The gasp startled her so that her eyes flew open wildly, but at the very first sign of a laugh, the witch couldn't help herself. All the jumbled up emotions dissolved and were condensed into her vocal chords and she laughed loud and clear, happy and suddenly free. Despite the cool feel of his hands on her face, a heavy warmth flooded her at his words and she sighed in relief, glad to have finally achieved her goals of making things better.
"You are wonderful to me too!" She chirped with all the conviction she felt, so happy that she didn't know what to do. One part of her wanted to hug him close, but with a start she realized his shirt was still gone, and speaking of...
With a sense of dread the witch looked down and breathed a sigh of relief to find that her undercorset was still on, though it looked like the witch was about to burst from it at any moment.

"Not stupid." Softly she rapped her knuckles against his temple, a bright smile unable to leave her face. "Now don't freak out, but your shirt is still off." Before he could really say anything else, the witch held up her hands and issued a quick, "Don't freak out! Because, um, mine kind of is too...And don't apologize, either!" She added quickly, with a finger shoved under his chin and her eyes narrowed.
But with them both missing clothing, the witch only sat there for a moment before another laugh pealed out.
"You did say I should wear less clothing, more often!" It was meant a joke, but the witch wasn't sure how far she could joke with Mort just yet.
But things were alright, things were better and they were definitely, definitely going to get through this. Maybe she wasn't ready to confess love yet, but it was budding slow and steady and full of color and vibrancy. It was there, hopefully for him too, but Belladonna would hold it close for now and let it blossom even further. She'd let it grow until it consumed them both, but even though it was small now, it made her infinitely happy to be with him.