The knight kept his focus on the treeline as she spoke of the mythological fountain, something that must have been too good to be true. "Your mother told you this?" His bottom lip briefly pouted out as he thought about exactly what she was telling him. "It sounds like a story of desperation, that is for certain." Though something about it, something didn't sit right with him.<br/><br/>The man didn't see himself as the others, as the mindless undead that he had slaughtered in countless numbers. The soul within him was corrupt, unwilling to let its host fall to such a basic state. He knew he was cursed in his own way, yet Isabelle spoke nothing of that, nothing that gave hint that he could find salvation from this fountain.<br/><br/>Instead, he grew anxious as he finally turned back to her, only to catch the look she was giving him. Memory flashed, the familiar look that he once received in the past, something he was quite proud of. "Isabelle..." He softly began, taking a step closer as he watches her perfect her hair as best she could. "... you were almost killed here in this wretched place.. what made you think you could reach this fountain alone?"