[Celehar takes a breath. The strength of the emotions won't fade so easily, but looking to see the light, it solidifies something in the core of his heart, a little knot of emotion. Determination, maybe. Resignation, to a difficult path.]
Uncertainty, in death as in life.
[What a grim irony it is, isn't it? That the end is not the end. That this same pain plagues them here, together. That the question of continuing on in the face of pain still occupies them so.
He looks to her, remembers the pained determination in her voice as she called out into the dark. It seems strange, to use the formal inflections with someone who has heard - and known - so much. He doesn't consciously register the shift in his words now, won't until later, when the switch has become habit.]
... I wouldst not ask thee to remain, alone, in the dark.
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Uncertainty, in death as in life.
[What a grim irony it is, isn't it? That the end is not the end. That this same pain plagues them here, together. That the question of continuing on in the face of pain still occupies them so.
He looks to her, remembers the pained determination in her voice as she called out into the dark. It seems strange, to use the formal inflections with someone who has heard - and known - so much. He doesn't consciously register the shift in his words now, won't until later, when the switch has become habit.]
... I wouldst not ask thee to remain, alone, in the dark.