He has so much in him to say to that. Her forgiveness is an impossible temptation, no less than the water all around them, cradling and warm. But to imagine that he deserves it is absurd; he is responsible for the deaths of untold thousands, and plots the death of yet more in the process of making it right.
Solas takes a breath, meaning to say as much, but before he can speak—
'Awaken!'
Sileal's body was too weak and too strong all at once, and every part of it was agony. His limbs moved sluggishly, and then all at once, an ugly, ungainly flailing. If this was embodiment, it was terrible, the heavy, wet weight of it a cloying layer over every thought, every movement. Where once his mind flitted from thought to thought, or lingered lightly, it now seemed as thick and useless as his tongue.
'Awaken, my Pride!'
Pride? But no, he was not— and yet, he remembered. That final sinking horror, the way all had twisted in agony, out of alignment, as he forced himself over the threshold. It pained him still, a throbbing echo down in the soul of him. Was he truly no longer Wisdom? Was he lost now, even to himself? No, no, no, nononono, he was Sileal!
'Solas, I name you. Thrice I have called,'
Mythal. Oh, she would guide him though this, as she always had before. Mythal, benevolent and strong, visionary above all; had he not followed here here? Had she ever before taken him astray? Oh, but only if the body did not hurt so. Every movement was... so heavy. So tiring. It hurt. Every nerve and sinew fought him, and it hurt. He opened his eyes, and saw, bleary, the sharp and lovely face of Mythal looking down at him.
With mortal, physical eyes, he could see almost nothing of her essence. It was all wrong. What had he done? What had he made of himself?
'Mythal,' he croaked, a plea for mercy, though his voice be as uncoordinated as the rest of him.
'Be at ease, my Pride. All will be well. It takes some getting used to, you will find,' She said, smoothing one cool hand over his fevered brow. How good it felt! How soothing, and kind! Mythal would care for him, he knew. Mythal would never leave him...
The memory releases Solas with a gasp. He cannot speak, and instead only sinks lower in the water, curling his entire body forward at the remembered pain, shivering despite the heat. Oh. Oh! He had not thought of that moment in millenia.
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Solas takes a breath, meaning to say as much, but before he can speak—
'Awaken!'
Sileal's body was too weak and too strong all at once, and every part of it was agony. His limbs moved sluggishly, and then all at once, an ugly, ungainly flailing. If this was embodiment, it was terrible, the heavy, wet weight of it a cloying layer over every thought, every movement. Where once his mind flitted from thought to thought, or lingered lightly, it now seemed as thick and useless as his tongue.
'Awaken, my Pride!'
Pride? But no, he was not— and yet, he remembered. That final sinking horror, the way all had twisted in agony, out of alignment, as he forced himself over the threshold. It pained him still, a throbbing echo down in the soul of him. Was he truly no longer Wisdom? Was he lost now, even to himself? No, no, no, nononono, he was Sileal!
'Solas, I name you. Thrice I have called,'
Mythal. Oh, she would guide him though this, as she always had before. Mythal, benevolent and strong, visionary above all; had he not followed here here? Had she ever before taken him astray? Oh, but only if the body did not hurt so. Every movement was... so heavy. So tiring. It hurt. Every nerve and sinew fought him, and it hurt. He opened his eyes, and saw, bleary, the sharp and lovely face of Mythal looking down at him.
With mortal, physical eyes, he could see almost nothing of her essence. It was all wrong. What had he done? What had he made of himself?
'Mythal,' he croaked, a plea for mercy, though his voice be as uncoordinated as the rest of him.
'Be at ease, my Pride. All will be well. It takes some getting used to, you will find,' She said, smoothing one cool hand over his fevered brow. How good it felt! How soothing, and kind! Mythal would care for him, he knew. Mythal would never leave him...
The memory releases Solas with a gasp. He cannot speak, and instead only sinks lower in the water, curling his entire body forward at the remembered pain, shivering despite the heat. Oh. Oh! He had not thought of that moment in millenia.