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Cold. Was she cold? Now that she thought about it, she could tell there were certain parts of her that felt like they were freezing. She felt icy fingers gripping her shoulders, pushing her down with the weight of a heavy, painful burden. It was a different kind of fear that made her heart beat faster now, and she pulled away from Kettil, and turned to look behind her.

There was no one there.

"Ja." She whispered out sharply. "I am colds." Turning back to look up at him, her eyes were guarded, kept from looking up too long lest the haunting darkness that hovered just behind them made itself known. "I don't needs new clothes. Maybe we goes home now?"

No corners my a**.

Kettil had driven a stake deep into her heart with four simple words, and the pain of made her audibly gasp, all of the breath expelling from her lungs at once. She watched him walk away for all of a second, before the urge to run and tackle him flowed through her blood hotly. It was almost enough to keep her from feeling the hands, clenched firmly on her shoulders, that kept her from moving an inch.

Kettil was doing the exact thing she'd just gone cold with fear about. He was mad. He was leaving her.

It was happening all over again.

Freya's eyes unfocused, losing track of her sight of Kettil. Her arms wrapped around her stomach, and she trembled, tumbling down immediately to her knees. No one stopped to see if she was all right. The crowd kept walking past, on both sides, as she sat there, a crumbled little ghoul.

So she started singing.

It was a wordless little tune, no real song, but it was enough. The people around her began to walk slower, their bags began to feel heavier, and children began to cry..

Freya looked up at the boil after he kissed her cheek, but her lips still moved just slightly, the hum of her voice escaping her lips. Her mouth turned down into a pout, because he was there to assure her that she had nothing to worry about, but the grip holding her down and holding her heart painfully captive didn't let the words sink in. They just grazed the surface, keeping her from breaking down into tears.

There was no attempt to fight his arms, and she was looking at him, at those eyes.. but still, she just kept singing. Very quiet, very soft, but just enough.

She was listening to his every word, but that didn't stop her soft humming. It wasn't until those sweet words that she wanted to believe more than anything came out of his mouth, that her voice hitched, and her eyes filled with tears.

He'd always come back. He'd always come back. How could she even begin to explain how frightening those words were? How hard he could believe them now, only to suddenly turn dark one day, and want nothing to do with her? No one could ever understand.

"I don't hides from yeh, Hooter. I tells yeh everythings. I don't ever wants teh locks myself away. But I can't keeps sayings the same things, over and over.. it'll make yeh sicks teh hears it and yeh'll leaves me for that. I feels.. like.." Even as she tried to explain it, she couldn't find the words. This was why she curled up into herself when moments like this came. She didn't think she'd ever be able to adequately explain those icy fingers.

Freya let out a startled cry when his fingers gripped around her shoulders, a tremor leaving her until the only thing she felt on her skin was his warm, steady grip. There was a few seconds of silence, before she breathed a sigh of relief, and reached up to press her hands gratefully against his, keeping them there. Then she digested the offer he'd made, and just how serious he sounded, and a weak, pathetic little chuckle left her.

"Yeh don't even knows how teh sews." She whispered, burying her head into his collarbone in embarrassment.

She snickered into his skin, and pulled away, looking up into his eyes. She felt like she was falling in love with him all over again, because he was holding her in the middle of a maul, on the floor, while she cried.

And he was still looking at her like that.

"I'm sorry." She sniffed out. "I don't.. take.. leavings or walkings away very well nowadays, do I." Her lower lip jutted out, and she placed one hand on his cheek, pressing against it gently. "Don't wants teh makes yeh suffers for somethings yeh didn't even do."

It was a very easy thing to realize, as it slowly dawned upon her. No boil should ever have to deal with so much trouble just for one stupid little ghoul. Kettil did it, every single time. He did it with a smile. His eyes never faltered.

Kettil was a saint, in love with a sinner. And he thought he needed to be worthy of her heart. It was preposterous, and it made her laugh a breathy laugh. "No, my love." She whispered, shaking her head. "I'm the one who has teh works teh becomes worthy of yehrs."