['It was several years ago' makes Celehar give a ragged, disbelieving laugh. His own death was much more recent, unless he truly has lost all sense of time, in this afterlife of theirs. It doesn't process that she means these events that they're rewatching, until the Need of Then's intentions shift, and the simple weight of attention becomes the healing effort she'd laid over Darkwind.
It's remote, and she'd told him it happened, and still that and the pressure of her hand against his back has him stilling, then curling forward, closing his eyes through the echoes of it. He finds himself regulating his breathing, the better to ignore the prickle he can feel at the corners of his eyes.]
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It's remote, and she'd told him it happened, and still that and the pressure of her hand against his back has him stilling, then curling forward, closing his eyes through the echoes of it. He finds himself regulating his breathing, the better to ignore the prickle he can feel at the corners of his eyes.]
You must find us quite foolish, Othalo.
['Us,' he says, but 'me' is what he means.]