There was guilt. Of course there was guilt and yet, for once it did not orbit the very thought of Caligula of his children: for once, the guilt orbitted thoughts of Leviathan and how he had been a failure to her, a woman who had done everything she could to be good to a man who did not deserve such goodness. It existed as a pit within his very soul, a place of silence at the end of each word where an apology ought to have sat instead. If she was cursed then he was cursed too; perhaps, though, it was time for the two of them to finally let those curses exist side by side.
And then her words come. He had hoped for her presence but her words? He had only heard them in memories and for a moment,
it caused his skin to prickle, his ears pushed back to meet the far-off sound of bitterness in her voice. He breathes a sigh to himself if only because he cannot blame her for feeling such a thing.
He turned, then, to meet her eyes, forcing himself to not shrink back. Instead, he rose without his usual effort, unashamed near her to show the weakness in his leg, the scars of his body.
He smiled then, a tiny thing that seemed timid rather than the sauve and confident it might have been. He stepped towards her but he paused, unable to bring himself much closer for a moment but then, with a furrow of his brows, he did so. He moved until but only a few feet were between then, his eyes having met hers half-way there with a sudden sternness. He wanted her to see the guilt, the remorse, the knowledge of his wrongs. Though it had only been several steps...for once, he had come to her.