Adeline. Was it truly the woman's name, or perhaps the closest that Hob could find in his scouring through the millions of songs and verses recorded in his mind? Still, even that did not really answer what she truly wanted to know. Perhaps what she wanted to know wasn't who the woman was, but who she was to Wroth.
Still, without needing another word from her, Hob advanced the scene before them, patients and orderlies vanishing to allow a moment of nightly privacy between Wroth and his Adeline. Curled up together in a sweet embrace, the two softly talked, under the watchful eye of Hob. At that sight, Caitlyn could feel the slightest pang of jealousy within her chest. Why could she not have that? Why could she not have that kind of intimacy? When was the last time she had a relationship where she could find herself just snuggling up on the sofa to watch a film, or to just happily lie within eachother's embrace? The closest thing to that was perhaps the relationship she had had with Thomas, but even that hadn't really been anything like that. They'd had sex. They'd had hung out. But, they hadn't connected. Not like that.
The vision changed. Wroth was angered, frightening all around her but the object of his wrath. Caitlyn wasn't sure what it was that had enraged the demon, nor did Hob's words really explain it all that well to her. She found herself trying to repeat his words within her head, to try and glean the meanings she would miss the first time she would hear them. In a way, conversation with the man was exhausting.
So, it had been the woman who had brought Wroth to the asylum. Given the scene on the painting, she was not the painter. At least, that was what Caitlyn assumed. Either way, her discovery left her unsure of what to do with the information she had gleaned upon. Why had she really wanted to know? Had she been looking to find some sort of weak point of the demon? In a way, part of her had had the perverse desire to have Wroth feel that same heartache she suffered because of him. Because of what happened with Thomas. Because she felt he was to blame for the loneliness she felt. Now, however, she wasn't so sure. She wasn't sure what to think about it. About anything. She felt a bit deflated. Weary.
“Let's go home, Hob.” She muttered, not really offering a reply to his words. “I think I've seen enough.”