[ The pain in her wound pulls her hazily back to consciousness, her name distant until sound rushes in. Shadowheart is dead weight in Silco's arms, terrified for a moment that she's lost use of her limbs--but it's just unnatural exhaustion that leaves her heavy, the way the gauntlets made her weightless. She'd only barely tested them, before; now she knows the cost.
And she wonders if Silco will think her useless for it. Why had she asked him here? Astarion and Gale both know more of her--know the stakes of the Gauntlet, of Nightsong. They know what happens next in their own timelines. They would understand, could even offer real comfort.
But she'd chosen a different witness. There's no abandonment that will matter the way Shar's matters; she'll be hunted by the scarce few people she remembers, whenever she returns home. Whatever she's invested in Silco, there's nothing truly left for her to lose.
Shadowheart looks up at him for the first time since inviting him here, the light low in her eyes. Her wounded hand forms a loose cuff around his wrist, as she tries to sit up. ]
Don't take me to my room.
[ Her voice sounds strange to her own ears, as she presses her cheek against his chest, closes her eyes. He doesn't smell familiar to her, because there are so few things that are, but he smells like Silco. Like a body, warm. His heartbeat close to her temple, so very human, not shadow and loss given form. ]
Anywhere else. [ She's not in any state to be making demands, curled into him as she is. But nothing matters, and so she does, her lashes wet against the fabric of his shirt. ]
no subject
And she wonders if Silco will think her useless for it. Why had she asked him here? Astarion and Gale both know more of her--know the stakes of the Gauntlet, of Nightsong. They know what happens next in their own timelines. They would understand, could even offer real comfort.
But she'd chosen a different witness. There's no abandonment that will matter the way Shar's matters; she'll be hunted by the scarce few people she remembers, whenever she returns home. Whatever she's invested in Silco, there's nothing truly left for her to lose.
Shadowheart looks up at him for the first time since inviting him here, the light low in her eyes. Her wounded hand forms a loose cuff around his wrist, as she tries to sit up. ]
Don't take me to my room.
[ Her voice sounds strange to her own ears, as she presses her cheek against his chest, closes her eyes. He doesn't smell familiar to her, because there are so few things that are, but he smells like Silco. Like a body, warm. His heartbeat close to her temple, so very human, not shadow and loss given form. ]
Anywhere else. [ She's not in any state to be making demands, curled into him as she is. But nothing matters, and so she does, her lashes wet against the fabric of his shirt. ]
You should punish me for being gone.