[ Just like before, Eula finds it's so easy to fall into it, to melt in close to him once more, only this time her arms actually lift and encircle him, a sigh on her lips as they part into the kiss, her heart hammering in her chest. And she doesn't want to pull away; she wants to press closer, to indulge more, to continue the strange, not-unpleasant feeling twisting in her stomach, to keep the insistent thoughts in her head silent the way they are now—

But that's selfish, isn't it? This is about more than just her. Although admittedly, there's a hint of dread at separating from him because then she'll have to explain why she kissed him again, won't she?

Or maybe she can just...

It's reluctantly that she pulls back from the kiss, and as he did earlier she can't bring herself to pull away entirely, hovering close to him still, her breath short and warm against his lips. ]

I will not be the person who tells you not to chase after the vengeance you seek. [ Her eyes remain on his face, but her hands drop back to the scars on his arms, gloved fingers tracing over the lines from memory alone. She doesn't even realize that she's tracing their exact path, or that she's somehow committed the image of his arms to her mind. ]

But I can demand that you look after yourself. If you allow yourself to be further hurt, it is my vengeance you will need to worry yourself with.