[in truth, Morax had simply been thinking aloud. It's true enough, all of it, and yet... overwhelming, clearly. Earthen energy is, after all, a source of life. Of course it's reasonable that it might have something to do with everything, but that requires one's willingness to listen.
... moreover, there are those words. Tired, frustrated. Painfully lucid in a way that at once twists in his chest and feels entirely too familiar.]
... ah...
[Dohalim may not be his beloved, but the thought of him coming to harm-- the thought of everything just ending in some abrupt way tears at his thoughts. Of course, that's only another fault, isn't it? He can feel so much and still his words can fall so...]
It is... a complex issue, clearly.
[even with Melqal speaking again, with his same, gentle countenance taking over, Morax can't completely recover.
How many times had he pleaded, back then? Struggling for a lucid moment so that he could stop, so that he wouldn't...]
... is it really such an... acceptable thought, for him? [how much had that one life meant? How much more was missing from this narrative?] Perhaps... perhaps it was still too early. For this.
[for him. He struggles with the man's plight in a way that's perhaps completely hypocritical for a creature who just called another a bleeding heart. His gaze is unsure, lips pressed together into a thin line.]
I have... forgotten most of the details over the years, but he reminds me of the beginning. When you gave me pause in my heartlessness. [When he was just another symbol of destruction, power to be wielded. It hadn't been a swift change by any means.] Forgive me, Melqal. It seems I yet lack the passion of your verbiage. I fear, more than that, that it's deteriorated in the darkness. I...
[His hands shift, hesitating now. It's an old habit, one he hasn't realised exists, let alone how hypocritical it is.]
... what would you recommend, Melqal? I've no memory of this place and its layout, but I... I would like to leave it.
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... moreover, there are those words. Tired, frustrated. Painfully lucid in a way that at once twists in his chest and feels entirely too familiar.]
... ah...
[Dohalim may not be his beloved, but the thought of him coming to harm-- the thought of everything just ending in some abrupt way tears at his thoughts. Of course, that's only another fault, isn't it? He can feel so much and still his words can fall so...]
It is... a complex issue, clearly.
[even with Melqal speaking again, with his same, gentle countenance taking over, Morax can't completely recover.
How many times had he pleaded, back then? Struggling for a lucid moment so that he could stop, so that he wouldn't...]
... is it really such an... acceptable thought, for him? [how much had that one life meant? How much more was missing from this narrative?] Perhaps... perhaps it was still too early. For this.
[for him. He struggles with the man's plight in a way that's perhaps completely hypocritical for a creature who just called another a bleeding heart. His gaze is unsure, lips pressed together into a thin line.]
I have... forgotten most of the details over the years, but he reminds me of the beginning. When you gave me pause in my heartlessness. [When he was just another symbol of destruction, power to be wielded. It hadn't been a swift change by any means.] Forgive me, Melqal. It seems I yet lack the passion of your verbiage. I fear, more than that, that it's deteriorated in the darkness. I...
[His hands shift, hesitating now. It's an old habit, one he hasn't realised exists, let alone how hypocritical it is.]
... what would you recommend, Melqal? I've no memory of this place and its layout, but I... I would like to leave it.
[and to get the other man out of it, honestly.]