[ Her hand over his relaxes, as her actions turn from investigative to soothing. She doesn't have the proper words to convey the sympathy, only her touch and the expression on her face.

She understands what it's like, even if a part of her was born to crave chaos and flesh. It's an awful balance that he must maintain... like her. And it's another spell she'll have to research, another source of magic that leaves her wondering who in their right mind could subject two separate men with two terrible spells.

She wishes she could express herself better verbally; he must find it awful, she thinks, that the hands that were once around is neck are holding his as a sign of sympathy. ]

But it is not you.

[ It's a reminder to him and to herself. ]

That is never you. I will do whatever I can to help you, Nikolai, I promise you that much. I don't want you to suffer alone.