It's a dream he's kept clutched close ever since stumbling into Thedas, watching Cazador rot, so much as any undead thing ever could. He nurses it still, letting it spark to life under her suggestion, though the brilliant vanity of it fades into reality not long after: killing whatever blissful calm he'd clearly derived from her offered promise.
That unknowing humor.
"I..."
She's not the first to say it. And maybe, if Thedas hadn't stolen her strength, he'd be bolstered somehow, here and now. Certain that all his newfound allies would somehow possess more than enough power between them to tackle even the most wretched vampiric sire.
...but his mind stays filled with what-ifs.
What if Cazador loses nothing? What if Corypheus finds him first? What if the anchor-shard fades, and he's dumped back— alone— on the shores of Toril without an ally in sight? What if, what if, what if...and it's maddening, and frightening, and crippling dread creeps potent along his spine by conjured force as surely as it does hers—
Before he forces it to abate, expression pinched tight in the darkness.
no subject
That unknowing humor.
"I..."
She's not the first to say it. And maybe, if Thedas hadn't stolen her strength, he'd be bolstered somehow, here and now. Certain that all his newfound allies would somehow possess more than enough power between them to tackle even the most wretched vampiric sire.
...but his mind stays filled with what-ifs.
What if Cazador loses nothing? What if Corypheus finds him first? What if the anchor-shard fades, and he's dumped back— alone— on the shores of Toril without an ally in sight? What if, what if, what if...and it's maddening, and frightening, and crippling dread creeps potent along his spine by conjured force as surely as it does hers—
Before he forces it to abate, expression pinched tight in the darkness.
"Thank you, darling."