A pale hand reached forward and stroked her purple hair again, his head bowed down as he kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry ... But I have too many obligations." He said slowly, with a hollow resounding tone of sadness. His orbs sparked with dull emotion, the best he could proffer. "I have been eleven, as long as you have; phsycally." He said at the end, with musing interest and sorrow. "But mentally, I have suffered for centuries..." His fingers dropped to her chin and circled about them, like a blind man feeling one's face.
"You don't know what it is to love me - You don't know what you love, and hence you don't love me, but my mask." His ending sentence floated out, and hung in the air, like an eerie ghost flame. "You cannot love a mask."
His eyes flashed dangerously, and Henric Lee's arms closed around her waist for a brief moment. In that brief moment, it looked as if a crimson tear of blood was upon his eyes; then, in a flash it was gone, as if it evaporated. He let go, and carresed her arms to fall off his body as well. "You cannot love me." Henric said at last, as he turned around, dark hair whipping about in the wind, as he moved off quietly, cloak fluttering silently, as he walked silently towards the great castle doors. A ghostly smile transfixed upon his face, devoid of all emotion.
The words he had spoken lingered in the air like armageddon's message.
You cannot love a mask.