Her words seemed only to sadden him - She could sit the emotion hidden there, in the deep shadows of his face. Jefferson would have been handsome once, in his youth, but time had ravaged him as it had her. She knew what the cyclops believed her to be - Purity and youth, fragile innocence - But how could she be any of these things? The world had been cruel to Alaine Winters. Her youth and beauty and innocence had been stolen from her a long, long time ago. All that remained now was the truth of the woman beneath, a creature that survived, that healed others in a desperate attempt to heal herself.
She was drawn to him. Perhaps she'd always been drawn to him, since that first time they met, when the rain fell in miserable lament much like it did now. She had been a simpler creature then, heartache and scars freshly buried in the hope that had come with this new life. But so, too, had she been afraid - Always afraid. The choking fear came back sometimes, overwhelming, starving her of air and reason. A panic attack without warning, without heed. Alaine felt, in the deep dark recesses of her own being, that panic begin to rise again as Jefferson spoke of his own mortality.
"You shouldn't speak such things," Beautiful accented tone was merely a whisper, but the terror filled her eyes, pupils engorged in the sharp green as though to soak him in and preserve him forever. Perhaps she wanted reassurance - But it was too late for that now. They both new the truth in his voice. Her lip trembled, as the rain continued to plaster auburn curls to her exotic, creamy face. She trembled, a mixture of the cold and the terrible worry that gnawed relentlessly at her insides. "There is hope for us all. There is always hope." Lugh, the deathgod of her pagan past, cackled deeply within Alaine. Death was his domain, as was all absence of hope. Wanting to be calmed, warmed, the shivering woman moved to rest a cool ivory palm against the scars of his severed limb.