Mhm. Well, I have alcohol in my hand so better than before.
[ the smallest breath puffs out from his nostrils and he smiles wry as he reaches for the hand she offers. he could add on a remark about how her being here is also a help, but he thinks that bit may be implied when he pushes his fingers in-between the gaps of hers and clasps their palms together. warm as ever, and it burns hotter against his cold skin.
the wind outside howls low and he finishes his drink. exhaustion is creeping into him again, but he fights it because he knows what will come if he tries to sleep. he decides to keep talking - an expert at running his mouth - to stave it off. ]
Are you doing ok? You... when we were in the woods, I saw you bleeding. Was that real?
[ he remembers how she stumbled in the woods when using her magic, and asking him if his connection to the force brought any pain with use. did setting that monster on fire take something out of her? ]
⟪ his hand is cold, but there's something nice about holding it regardless. she takes another sip of her own, and can feel some of her tension leaving her. ⟫
Help yourself. ⟪ she nods towards the bottle. ⟫ I am unlikely to ever finish the bottle on my own.
⟪ is she buying time with her offer? perhaps, a little. of course, she could simply lie – it's a lie she's told a thousand time, surely it would be hard to catch her in it? yet he'd been honest, had sought her out, and had... aimed to protect her, risking himself in the process. 'tis one thing to leave a guard to it. it's another thing to see a friend do so. does he not deserve some truth? ⟫
Power does not come without a cost. ⟪ she sets her cup down, touches his hand instead, tracing his knuckles. ⟫ I am well now, but large, quick bouts of magic cast do not feel... good.
⟪ as a general rule. ⟫
'tis how I knew what it is to feel as though I was burnt alive. ⟪ she blinks. ⟫ I never asked your forgiveness for catching you amid the smoke of the flames I cast against the creature. I rarely use these skills in battle - forgive me.
[ the offer for the bottle is very tempting, but he thinks how easy it would be to slip into old habits and drives away the lingering thoughts to go for it. he smiles at her apology. ]
We do a lot of apologizing around each other, don't we? [ he doesn't normally issue them out so much and that bugs him too. ] You don't need to be sorry for saving me.
[ he took in a lot of smoke but frankly that thing was winning on strength alone. if she didn't cast that combustion spell he could have been a goner. the same is true if she ran like he told her too, and that's one thing he won't apologize for. ]
If you're still in any pain, I do have these serums that I snagged from those firebird poachers I told you about. I was told they can heal surface wounds and relieve poisons. You can have one if you need it.
'tis a habit I will need to break when I return to Westeros.
⟪ she says it with half a laugh, the image of casting her apologies around atop the wall as she does with him being a bit of an unfortunate one. it is of such importance that she seems untouchable – and those who are truly untouchable need never apologise.
though, at his offer of the potion, she hesitates. ⟫
Your offer is very kind. And I would be glad to take it. I... am not in pain, now – these things do not last, or perhaps, they simply do not last for me. ⟪ hard to tell, really, when she works like a mortal woman would, and when not. ⟫ And I worry that you will give the potion away and find yourself lacking when you most need it. ⟪ she now holds his hand with both of hers. ⟫ You must not risk your life for mine, not even in such a way.
No can do. It's the Jedi way, Melisandre. We protect those who are in need of it.
[ the oppressed, the enslaved, the rebels - jedi are peacekeepers of the galaxy. or that's how it was always meant to be at least before they started taking military ranks. he is no more a soldier, but he will always be a jedi. ]
I won't force you to take it, but it's an open offer. I have a couple vials so giving you one isn't a big deal.
⟪ if anything, they may fight together again, and if she takes it, she won't endanger him more by being injured. and if he's injured? then there's something to offer him until she can find a way to heal him fully. ⟫
If you stay here tonight, do you reckon it would help you find rest?
[ his shoulders relax when she agrees, but her question gets a slight awkward pause from him. ]
It... wasn't my intention to stay, but. [ but. hm. ] I guess going back to my room won't really do anything for me.
[ even with the conversation to ease his mind, get his thoughts away from the burning woods, he thinks it might be better to just stay here since he already bothered her. although... ]
⟪ for a moment, the tilt of her head and the air in the room both suggest that she is on the verge of asking what mood he means. (un)fortunately, she has since encountered stannis and selyse baratheon, both of whom gave her the distinct impression that some would rather bite off their own tongues in awkward shame than speak of matters of desire, lust, or want.
it had made her quite good at guessing, and at finishing thoughts. at any rate, it makes sense for his fires to burn low tonight – the day had been most dark. ⟫
I understand, I believe. ⟪ she could very well be wrong. truth be told, the entire concept is strange. ⟫ I will not deny that I had all kinds of images in my mind when I asked you to join me at the play ⟪ after all, she knew she'd spend a good deal of the time whispering in his ear, and she could easily have turned the nature of the thing –– ⟫ but that was before. It is more important to me now to know you comfortable, and able to find peace.
[ a lazy smirk twitches. ] Would've made the play a lot more fun.
[ even before the intermission and the insanity that followed, the play was so dull. he would have fell asleep if she wasn't narrating in his ear. next time he'll need to just make the first move if their thoughts were going the same way. shame burning alive has killed the desire to do anything but sleep right now, and even that his body denies him. ]
You planning on sleeping soon? Think it might be a good idea for both of us.
[ he has no concept of how late it must be, but he has enough of a hunch that he should have been asleep hours ago on a normal night. he's definitely kept her awake long enough even before he knocked on her door. ]
⟪ for herself, she is quite done with plays for a while now –– but she reckons there'll be other opportunities, ones that don't turn quite so disastrous as this one. ⟫
I cannot avoid it much longer.
⟪ it has been a couple of days, even as it does not conventionally show in her. she is exhausted, and if anything –– well, his company had made it easier to stay awake for a little more time, and now, it might bring her some ease.
she stands, then, clears away the bottle, the cups – ⟫
Wookiee sleeps beneath the bed. Be mindful when you seat yourself, for he is likely to swipe at your feet.
[ he grins and thinks of coaxing the cat out of hiding, but chances are the weird five-eyed furball might be sleeping. instead he pushes his hands up and stands, taking a moment to wind his hand to the back of his pontail and tug it loose again. ]
You don't mind if I sleep without my shirt, right?
[ he has a good feeling she won't mind one bit, but he'll ask out of politeness sake. ]
⟪ for a moment, as she watches, she half-expects him have another concern – but then it's not him touching his hair as he often does when agitated in some manner, but merely undoing the strange tie he uses, the kind he can keep at his wrist without needing to tie it into a ribbon. ⟫
Not at all. ⟪ she keeps the cheekier remarks to herself, to try and make sure that it does not seem as though she wishes to sway him on his previous choice. for herself, she shuts the window, and checks her large, votive candles. they must last the night – and they will.
the bed is largely the cat's domain, as melisandre rarely uses it, least of all for its intended purpose, and the covers are undisturbed and neatly made up. she draws the blanket back and seats herself, making an effort to seem used to the rites. ⟫ Will it disturb you to lie close to me? I am afraid I cannot change the matter of my temperature.
[ once she gives him to go-ahead, never a doubt in his mind, he pulls the tunic over his head and hangs it over a nearby chair. no time is wasted taking a seat next to her, giving himself permission to come hip to hip with her, and though he's worn out and exhausted it doesn't stop him from snaking an arm around her waist. ]
You're basically a moving heater. Doesn't bother me.
[ and yes, he has a good feeling that she has no idea what a heater is. ]
⟪ there's amusement in her tone as she asks, as she leans against him and into his touch. in fact, she seems most intend to draw him to lie down – he strikes her as really, really needing the rest. it's awfully late.
and if she lies down, too, her cheek against his chest? she can't even pretend that isn't for her own comfort. ⟫
Is this another strange creature from some faraway planet?
[ he lies as she urges, lets his hand drift to the back of her head to thread into her hair, and smiles warm when she rests on him. kanan knows well he always prefers the company of a beautiful woman beside him than not. ]
It's... a machine. [ he has to think how to word it and it's tough when he's so out of it. his voice is only the volume of a gentle mutter now. ] It generates heat. People use it when it gets really cold.
⟪ she draws up the covers, then melts against him, listening to the murmur of his voice as he explains a concept she can kind of, sort of picture. ⟫
Like a hearth. ⟪ just without the fire. which seems a bad subject to choose now that he seems to relax into himself, not if she is trying to steer him away from the thoughts that had kept him awake before. she keeps her voice quiet, too, and one arm draped across him.
she intends to let him sleep, then – listens for his breathing and his heartbeat, and pretty soon finds herself halfway to a doze, too. of course, if anything shakes him in his peace, she'll be fully aware again quite immediately. ⟫
[ the short-lived topic ends there, the quiet howl of the wind outside the only sound that penetrates into the room. kanan soon falls asleep, or more accurate to say exhaustion takes hold and he passes out, unperturbed by melisandre resting over him. nothing in the room moves but the flame of the candles and the cat adjusting its curl under the bed.
then kanan jolts, eyes opening to a dark world and inhaling a sharp breath. his heart beat spikes erratic and prickles of shivers rise on his skin. slowly he breathes, trying to regain a normal pace and calm his heart, and rises to sit up in the bed forgetting his partner beside him in the moment. ]
Damn... [ he breathes out quiet and touches a hand to his face, cold and lightly shaking. ]
⟪ she must have, in the end, fallen into some shape of a doze, and when he jolts awake and sits, she's momentarily left without orientation – and reaches for her knife, which she can't find. it takes her half a moment to reorder her thoughts: kanan is in bed with her, she'd not taken her knife as she usually would because kanan is in bed with her, there is no immediate danger.
gently, she touches his face, brushes his own hand as she does. he's shivering – or shaking, 'tis hard to tell. ⟫
Dark dreams? ⟪ her voice is a murmur, warm and calm. she leans against him, her thin dressing gown against his skin and heat radiating from her as ever. ⟫
[ instictive and immediate, kanan's hand snaps up to grip her wrist when his face is touched. the grip is just as quickly loosened when the low burn touch reminds him that he fell asleep with melisandre. he breathes out heavy, eyes closing and face turning off to the side with apology. ]
Yeah.
[ vivid in the moment and now fading into the dark, he doesn't quite let go of her hand yet. it helps him stay grounded and remember where he is. he doesn't have it in him to face her in the moment, but he thinks he owes her some explanation. ]
I lost my sight a year ago. That illusion - it's the first time I've been able to see since.
[ it feels like one of many reasons why he keeps seeing it. the disturbance, the destruction of sacred land, and the sensation of burning alive. how is he the only one bothered by this between them? ]
⟪ she does not withdraw her hand, merely adjusts to hold his more comfortably. ⟫
A mere year?
⟪ true, the scar that she thinks must related to the incident does not look aged nor faded. yet he struck her as quite adjusted to the loss of sight, and certainly, he could use his force for orientation –– it seems like such a short timespan to gain such a handle over the loss of a sense. it is not something she expects an answer to, not really, but it slipped out nonetheless. ⟫
I wish the illusion had shown you a more peaceful sight. ⟪ with her free hand, she brushes back his hair. ⟫ Though it is only natural it would haunt you – what else are dreams for, but to curse you?
[ he isn't sure how to take the year comment, but in the moment he realizes he never explained the loss. much like the very visible scar that has faded off, the loss no longer pains him. it's just a matter of fact now, and any contradiction to it rattles him more.
her touch coaxes him away from those thoughts and he leans into them, a tired breath exhaling out as he leans back into the pillow again. he holds her hand and hopes she joins, or at the very least does not pull away. ]
My eyes were burned by a lightsaber. I let my guard down when I shouldn't have, and he took advantage of it.
[ the 'he' in question goes unnamed as he tries to relax his body, nerves still tangled and firing off when he thinks of sleep for a moment. his mind knows what will come and it does not want him to continue enduring it. ]
⟪ she does join him, sinking back into the bed and against him. for a talk, she reckons it might be smarter to stay seated, so she may look him in the face even as he attempts to relax back to sleep –– but he'd turned his face away, and she assumes it just might be easier for him to speak without facing her.
and, selfishly, so close to him, the night seems perhaps a shade less dark. she doesn't argue him on the matter of curses – she knows what she experiences, but she prefers an attempt to bringing peace to him over having to speak of it, or really, go further near it in her own thoughts. ⟫
He? ⟪ it's out before she catches herself. ⟫ You need not speak of it, of course, if you do not wish. ⟪ a pause, as she adjusts against his chest, so that she can trace patterns against his skin he'll grow familiar with in time. ⟫ All the more cruel to send you into a field of flame, when fire has taken from you already. You need not be guarded here, Kanan. In this world, fire will not touch you while I am here.
[ he smiles small at that and he wishes he could believe it. maybe he can, if only for tonight, as she delicately moves her finger against his chest and warms him from the cold grip of his sleep. ]
His name was Maul. He's dead now.
[ his apprentice told him he was gone now, but reports of maul's death have been numerous and untrue. kanan can only hope he will never cross paths with the mad man again. he thinks melisandre would go into a spin if she saw him, horns and skin a mix of red and black markings etched as his skin. that maul was the last thing he ever saw with his sight stays with him, and occasionally haunts his sleep.
but there was one thing he saw in the illusion that doesn't haunt him. the only part of it to be thankful for. ]
Well, if there's anything good... I at least got to see you.
[ she wasn't an illusion, looking up to him with red eyes and an eerie calm that kept him from succumbing to the raging fires that never were. words cannot describe how thankful he is. ]
⟪ vengefulness should not be in her nature, of course. she may scorn a heretic, but to receive the news of a death with gladness – especially a death not leading to an ascension such as a burning – is perhaps not a sin, but it is certainly uncalled for.
but before she can dwell the whys and hows and what-ifs of that thing, when he says something all the more unexpected. ⟫
There are a number of Westerosi who would find that most troubling. ⟪ couldn't help that one, as she tries to describe what she felt in the heart of the illusion. ⟫ The fire did not trouble me, nor did the woods. But when I thought of death, it was yours I feared. To know that it was false, and that you would be safe as soon as the spell broke – it kept me calm.
[ revenge is not the jedi way, for vegenance is a dark trait, but kanan still breathes out the tiniest laugh at her response. he doesn't take pleasure in maul's death, but he certainly won't miss the dark sider who tried to claim his apprentice from him multiple times.
his thoughts are quickly pulled back to her though and he opens his eyes to try and spy her in the dim lit room. of course he can't see her and his eyes are unfocused even as he looks her way now, but he wants to pretend she's looking at him. ]
I feared dying, but I was afraid of what could happen to you just as much. Even when I knew it couldn't be real. [ he swallows a small lump in his throat and closes his eyes again. ] I'm glad we got out of there ok.
[ it could have been worse, as it always can be so much worse, but it wasn't. not this time at least. living another day is something he takes a lot of thanks in since the day he learned the jedi were not so immortal as they seemed. ]
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[ the smallest breath puffs out from his nostrils and he smiles wry as he reaches for the hand she offers. he could add on a remark about how her being here is also a help, but he thinks that bit may be implied when he pushes his fingers in-between the gaps of hers and clasps their palms together. warm as ever, and it burns hotter against his cold skin.
the wind outside howls low and he finishes his drink. exhaustion is creeping into him again, but he fights it because he knows what will come if he tries to sleep. he decides to keep talking - an expert at running his mouth - to stave it off. ]
Are you doing ok? You... when we were in the woods, I saw you bleeding. Was that real?
[ he remembers how she stumbled in the woods when using her magic, and asking him if his connection to the force brought any pain with use. did setting that monster on fire take something out of her? ]
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Help yourself. ⟪ she nods towards the bottle. ⟫ I am unlikely to ever finish the bottle on my own.
⟪ is she buying time with her offer? perhaps, a little. of course, she could simply lie – it's a lie she's told a thousand time, surely it would be hard to catch her in it? yet he'd been honest, had sought her out, and had... aimed to protect her, risking himself in the process. 'tis one thing to leave a guard to it. it's another thing to see a friend do so. does he not deserve some truth? ⟫
Power does not come without a cost. ⟪ she sets her cup down, touches his hand instead, tracing his knuckles. ⟫ I am well now, but large, quick bouts of magic cast do not feel... good.
⟪ as a general rule. ⟫
'tis how I knew what it is to feel as though I was burnt alive. ⟪ she blinks. ⟫ I never asked your forgiveness for catching you amid the smoke of the flames I cast against the creature. I rarely use these skills in battle - forgive me.
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We do a lot of apologizing around each other, don't we? [ he doesn't normally issue them out so much and that bugs him too. ] You don't need to be sorry for saving me.
[ he took in a lot of smoke but frankly that thing was winning on strength alone. if she didn't cast that combustion spell he could have been a goner. the same is true if she ran like he told her too, and that's one thing he won't apologize for. ]
If you're still in any pain, I do have these serums that I snagged from those firebird poachers I told you about. I was told they can heal surface wounds and relieve poisons. You can have one if you need it.
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⟪ she says it with half a laugh, the image of casting her apologies around atop the wall as she does with him being a bit of an unfortunate one. it is of such importance that she seems untouchable – and those who are truly untouchable need never apologise.
though, at his offer of the potion, she hesitates. ⟫
Your offer is very kind. And I would be glad to take it. I... am not in pain, now – these things do not last, or perhaps, they simply do not last for me. ⟪ hard to tell, really, when she works like a mortal woman would, and when not. ⟫ And I worry that you will give the potion away and find yourself lacking when you most need it. ⟪ she now holds his hand with both of hers. ⟫ You must not risk your life for mine, not even in such a way.
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[ the oppressed, the enslaved, the rebels - jedi are peacekeepers of the galaxy. or that's how it was always meant to be at least before they started taking military ranks. he is no more a soldier, but he will always be a jedi. ]
I won't force you to take it, but it's an open offer. I have a couple vials so giving you one isn't a big deal.
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⟪ if anything, they may fight together again, and if she takes it, she won't endanger him more by being injured. and if he's injured? then there's something to offer him until she can find a way to heal him fully. ⟫
If you stay here tonight, do you reckon it would help you find rest?
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It... wasn't my intention to stay, but. [ but. hm. ] I guess going back to my room won't really do anything for me.
[ even with the conversation to ease his mind, get his thoughts away from the burning woods, he thinks it might be better to just stay here since he already bothered her. although... ]
I'm not really in the mood. Just to be clear.
[ he says vague and unclearly. ]
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it had made her quite good at guessing, and at finishing thoughts. at any rate, it makes sense for his fires to burn low tonight – the day had been most dark. ⟫
I understand, I believe. ⟪ she could very well be wrong. truth be told, the entire concept is strange. ⟫ I will not deny that I had all kinds of images in my mind when I asked you to join me at the play ⟪ after all, she knew she'd spend a good deal of the time whispering in his ear, and she could easily have turned the nature of the thing –– ⟫ but that was before. It is more important to me now to know you comfortable, and able to find peace.
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[ even before the intermission and the insanity that followed, the play was so dull. he would have fell asleep if she wasn't narrating in his ear. next time he'll need to just make the first move if their thoughts were going the same way. shame burning alive has killed the desire to do anything but sleep right now, and even that his body denies him. ]
You planning on sleeping soon? Think it might be a good idea for both of us.
[ he has no concept of how late it must be, but he has enough of a hunch that he should have been asleep hours ago on a normal night. he's definitely kept her awake long enough even before he knocked on her door. ]
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I cannot avoid it much longer.
⟪ it has been a couple of days, even as it does not conventionally show in her. she is exhausted, and if anything –– well, his company had made it easier to stay awake for a little more time, and now, it might bring her some ease.
she stands, then, clears away the bottle, the cups – ⟫
Wookiee sleeps beneath the bed. Be mindful when you seat yourself, for he is likely to swipe at your feet.
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[ he grins and thinks of coaxing the cat out of hiding, but chances are the weird five-eyed furball might be sleeping. instead he pushes his hands up and stands, taking a moment to wind his hand to the back of his pontail and tug it loose again. ]
You don't mind if I sleep without my shirt, right?
[ he has a good feeling she won't mind one bit, but he'll ask out of politeness sake. ]
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Not at all. ⟪ she keeps the cheekier remarks to herself, to try and make sure that it does not seem as though she wishes to sway him on his previous choice. for herself, she shuts the window, and checks her large, votive candles. they must last the night – and they will.
the bed is largely the cat's domain, as melisandre rarely uses it, least of all for its intended purpose, and the covers are undisturbed and neatly made up. she draws the blanket back and seats herself, making an effort to seem used to the rites. ⟫ Will it disturb you to lie close to me? I am afraid I cannot change the matter of my temperature.
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You're basically a moving heater. Doesn't bother me.
[ and yes, he has a good feeling that she has no idea what a heater is. ]
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⟪ there's amusement in her tone as she asks, as she leans against him and into his touch. in fact, she seems most intend to draw him to lie down – he strikes her as really, really needing the rest. it's awfully late.
and if she lies down, too, her cheek against his chest? she can't even pretend that isn't for her own comfort. ⟫
Is this another strange creature from some faraway planet?
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[ he lies as she urges, lets his hand drift to the back of her head to thread into her hair, and smiles warm when she rests on him. kanan knows well he always prefers the company of a beautiful woman beside him than not. ]
It's... a machine. [ he has to think how to word it and it's tough when he's so out of it. his voice is only the volume of a gentle mutter now. ] It generates heat. People use it when it gets really cold.
[ he thinks it makes sense. ]
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Like a hearth. ⟪ just without the fire. which seems a bad subject to choose now that he seems to relax into himself, not if she is trying to steer him away from the thoughts that had kept him awake before. she keeps her voice quiet, too, and one arm draped across him.
she intends to let him sleep, then – listens for his breathing and his heartbeat, and pretty soon finds herself halfway to a doze, too. of course, if anything shakes him in his peace, she'll be fully aware again quite immediately. ⟫
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[ the short-lived topic ends there, the quiet howl of the wind outside the only sound that penetrates into the room. kanan soon falls asleep, or more accurate to say exhaustion takes hold and he passes out, unperturbed by melisandre resting over him. nothing in the room moves but the flame of the candles and the cat adjusting its curl under the bed.
then kanan jolts, eyes opening to a dark world and inhaling a sharp breath. his heart beat spikes erratic and prickles of shivers rise on his skin. slowly he breathes, trying to regain a normal pace and calm his heart, and rises to sit up in the bed forgetting his partner beside him in the moment. ]
Damn... [ he breathes out quiet and touches a hand to his face, cold and lightly shaking. ]
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gently, she touches his face, brushes his own hand as she does. he's shivering – or shaking, 'tis hard to tell. ⟫
Dark dreams? ⟪ her voice is a murmur, warm and calm. she leans against him, her thin dressing gown against his skin and heat radiating from her as ever. ⟫
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Yeah.
[ vivid in the moment and now fading into the dark, he doesn't quite let go of her hand yet. it helps him stay grounded and remember where he is. he doesn't have it in him to face her in the moment, but he thinks he owes her some explanation. ]
I lost my sight a year ago. That illusion - it's the first time I've been able to see since.
[ it feels like one of many reasons why he keeps seeing it. the disturbance, the destruction of sacred land, and the sensation of burning alive. how is he the only one bothered by this between them? ]
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A mere year?
⟪ true, the scar that she thinks must related to the incident does not look aged nor faded. yet he struck her as quite adjusted to the loss of sight, and certainly, he could use his force for orientation –– it seems like such a short timespan to gain such a handle over the loss of a sense. it is not something she expects an answer to, not really, but it slipped out nonetheless. ⟫
I wish the illusion had shown you a more peaceful sight. ⟪ with her free hand, she brushes back his hair. ⟫ Though it is only natural it would haunt you – what else are dreams for, but to curse you?
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[ he isn't sure how to take the year comment, but in the moment he realizes he never explained the loss. much like the very visible scar that has faded off, the loss no longer pains him. it's just a matter of fact now, and any contradiction to it rattles him more.
her touch coaxes him away from those thoughts and he leans into them, a tired breath exhaling out as he leans back into the pillow again. he holds her hand and hopes she joins, or at the very least does not pull away. ]
My eyes were burned by a lightsaber. I let my guard down when I shouldn't have, and he took advantage of it.
[ the 'he' in question goes unnamed as he tries to relax his body, nerves still tangled and firing off when he thinks of sleep for a moment. his mind knows what will come and it does not want him to continue enduring it. ]
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and, selfishly, so close to him, the night seems perhaps a shade less dark. she doesn't argue him on the matter of curses – she knows what she experiences, but she prefers an attempt to bringing peace to him over having to speak of it, or really, go further near it in her own thoughts. ⟫
He? ⟪ it's out before she catches herself. ⟫ You need not speak of it, of course, if you do not wish. ⟪ a pause, as she adjusts against his chest, so that she can trace patterns against his skin he'll grow familiar with in time. ⟫ All the more cruel to send you into a field of flame, when fire has taken from you already. You need not be guarded here, Kanan. In this world, fire will not touch you while I am here.
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His name was Maul. He's dead now.
[ his apprentice told him he was gone now, but reports of maul's death have been numerous and untrue. kanan can only hope he will never cross paths with the mad man again. he thinks melisandre would go into a spin if she saw him, horns and skin a mix of red and black markings etched as his skin. that maul was the last thing he ever saw with his sight stays with him, and occasionally haunts his sleep.
but there was one thing he saw in the illusion that doesn't haunt him. the only part of it to be thankful for. ]
Well, if there's anything good... I at least got to see you.
[ she wasn't an illusion, looking up to him with red eyes and an eerie calm that kept him from succumbing to the raging fires that never were. words cannot describe how thankful he is. ]
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⟪ vengefulness should not be in her nature, of course. she may scorn a heretic, but to receive the news of a death with gladness – especially a death not leading to an ascension such as a burning – is perhaps not a sin, but it is certainly uncalled for.
but before she can dwell the whys and hows and what-ifs of that thing, when he says something all the more unexpected. ⟫
There are a number of Westerosi who would find that most troubling. ⟪ couldn't help that one, as she tries to describe what she felt in the heart of the illusion. ⟫ The fire did not trouble me, nor did the woods. But when I thought of death, it was yours I feared. To know that it was false, and that you would be safe as soon as the spell broke – it kept me calm.
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his thoughts are quickly pulled back to her though and he opens his eyes to try and spy her in the dim lit room. of course he can't see her and his eyes are unfocused even as he looks her way now, but he wants to pretend she's looking at him. ]
I feared dying, but I was afraid of what could happen to you just as much. Even when I knew it couldn't be real. [ he swallows a small lump in his throat and closes his eyes again. ] I'm glad we got out of there ok.
[ it could have been worse, as it always can be so much worse, but it wasn't. not this time at least. living another day is something he takes a lot of thanks in since the day he learned the jedi were not so immortal as they seemed. ]
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