Killorn couldn't think of anything he could do to make it up for her. Instead, he brought her out to the gardens that his mother once frequented. He watched her eyes light up as she observed all of the flowers here, all of which had been kept alive by the gardeners. He leaned against the tea table, watching her with a slight frown. He crossed his arms and wondered what could be lovely about flowers. Suddenly, she gasped, and pulled her hands back.
"Ophelia!" Killorn sharply reprimanded, quickly approaching her to see the blood that beaded like pearls on her fingertips. He scowled at the prickly roses that caused her to bleed. He'd have it burned.
"I-I should've b-been more careful," Ophelia stammered, lowering her hand, but he caught it quickly and sighed.
