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Had she turned harsh over the years--- or, perhaps she'd always been that way just there had been no reason for him to see it?

He frowned further at the thought, and decided no, he wouldn't like to think that was the case. He liked to think that the enwrapping, challenging, soft and divine witch he met six years ago was her true, inner form, and things, life, had gotten the best of her better nature (an effect he knew and had experienced all too well). So in spite of truly thinking this, feeling it deep within him, he couldn't stop her words from searing through him like a rabid burn.

She wanted him to think...

His brow knitted in painful confusion. He supposed, by the precarious nature of their relationship, that it was possible... but it had never felt... he would have sworn, from the recesses of his gut...

A trickle of doubt formed within him and it, like acid, easily exposed a fresh layer of agony within him. Was he to believe her over the word of Melania's friend? Neither offered a preferable reality, in fact, Ollie found that both simply blurred into a cauldron of uncertainty, betrayal, longing, and... anguish. Why was something he felt so sure about, her, feeling so unobtainable? Finding it too difficult to discern what he was thinking or feeling, Ollie hung desperately to the facts.

"But it happened," he murmured finally, feeling no weight lifted from his shoulders. "You were."

A bout of silence grew between them as Ollie grappled with what to do, say next. He wanted Nona to be candor with him, so incredibly much that it hurt. Surely, this was a front? Her choked back words, her strict stature and callous tone, it left him feeling unable to read her. He just wanted, needed to know---

A kick of something, a dying reflex or a reborn instilling, filled him, and unable to ignore it, his limbs sprung to life. Ollie skirted closer to Nona, bending his back to meet her eyes, and quickly gripped both her arms above her elbows. His thoughts momentarily collected at how hot his clutch on her felt.

"This is the truth?" He held her tightly now, fearful she would dematerialize before his eyes. "Are you telling me the truth?" Oliver looked at her hungrily, eyes darting across her face to scan for signs of sincerity. All he wanted---

"I have so much of you in my heart, Nona," he began wearily, though he couldn't quite say whether the hint of warning in his voice was for himself, or her. His shoulders sunk so his head hung low. "And it's painful, because you have been the only one there for such a long time---"

How could he even begin to explain how crazed his frequent thoughts about her felt? He couldn't, not with how it felt like her attention was slipping through his fingers. Giving up on his effort to scrutinize her face, Ollie closed his eyes and dropped his head further so that it lingered dangerous close to resting on her shoulder.

"I looked for you," he muttered miserably. "I spent months trying to find you---"