The war within him was mirrored by the one inside herself - he was a Murnau. The name itself was ash upon her tongue, and yet her mouth moved soundless.<em>Claude...</em>even as he spoke. There was a quiver in the voice that had been so strong and confident, and it made her treacherous heart twist in her breast.<br/><br/>His hand slipped onto her cheek, and a tear crested her eyelid as she tilted her head to press her cheek gently against his hand, making it course downward like a glittering star upon the face of night, to wet his fingertips.<br/><br/>"I should strike you for this touch," she whispered hoarsely. Her hand lifted, fingertips trembling as they touched his cheek, her gaze drinking in the sight of his face; his father and mother were there both in him, and by that alone she should loathe him. "Instead I wish we'd never unmasked, that I could simply delight in it."