Baldur… didn’t know. Didn't know what to do, didn’t know what to say, didn’t know where to look, didn’t know where to go—he just didn’t know. He could feel himself being slowly, agonizingly crushed beneath the overbearing weight of anxious expectations. How was he meant to find the answers here? Was it even possible? Was it just a guessing game? Fuck.

As he did his best to avoid her gaze, there was no mistaking the way her body reflexively reacted to him—be it his voice, words, appearance, or presence—and it made his mind stutter. The girl was acting as if Baldur flashed his teeth with a gnarled threat, cowering and falling into a helplessly, semi-defensive posture. If she was attempting to appear able bodied and capable of handling an angry stranger, she was doing a really bad job. She looked like a white rabbit that had been tossed around as a chew toy, timid and trained to curl into herself.

Baldur’s brows furrowed the more he pondered the possible causes. Was it truly him that spurred such a reaction or maybe this is just how she was with everyone? It was impossible to read the true thought behind her actions. Uneasy with the way the scene may appear to an onlooker, Baldur shifted his weight between his front legs, a mindless fidget in an attempt to release some festering anxieties. His psyche was blanketed with a single, deep-rooted thought.

Did she know?

It would be impossible for her to know, wouldn’t it? But… this was how others had treated him for the entirety of his life. Like a monster. A damned creature that was not meant to be treated as an equal, that was meant to be feared and hated and outcasted.

Baldur took a step back subconsciously, his eyes still focusing on anything that was not Lithe’s face. A forced clear of his throat was to break the silence that was beginning to feel suffocating and irritating simultaneously. He wanted to run, truthfully. He wanted to flee the look of terror he managed to inflict upon some stranger, even wherever this strange place was, it haunted him.

It was the soft utterance of an apology that made his eyes seek her. She was sorry. Sorry for what? All he did was ask what she was doing there, did she expect him to chase her off like some scavenger? Baldur bit his tongue, maintaining his silence a moment more before blurting out something that would only deepen her fear of him.

Not like I own the place, a dismissive comment. She didn’t have to be sorry, she had every right to be there just as he did. Baldur’s multi-colored eyes watched her for a moment, the way she still radiated the fragility of ice, so easily shattered if one wished to break her.

Distantly, he wondered, did she feel like ice? Was her fur nothing more than frost and her skin cold to the touch? He’d bumped her shoulder, and she hadn’t cracked like one would expect. But he also didn’t truly feel what she was like. If he touched her, would he be able to feel the frigid sting of frostbite for the first time? What exactly did “cold” feel like?

Baldur finally decided to move, his legs sidestepping where she had planted herself. The tunnel was leading… somewhere? And he had a feeling it would be better than the current situation he found himself in. The boy stopped in his tracks after a few feet, not even caring to look back as he spoke. Don’t expect me to chase you off, he wasn’t sure how much that would truly reassure her, but he wasn’t the monster others saw him to be.