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Summary
The figure lurches towards him, pale pink hair spilling loose over her breast from the shadow of the hood. Both the Confessarius and Theresis raise hands towards her, the Confessarius to capture her arm once again, seemingly as surprised as Theresis at the sudden motion.
“No,” Theresis snaps, attention divided between the two. Perhaps some part of him wants for Theresa to take her revenge on her murderer. Perhaps the thought of the Confessarius’ hands on her is, now more than ever, utterly revolting. “Don’t touch her.”
—and Theresa folds into his half-offered arms.