[private] i'm breaking down and you're breathing slowly, israfel

[Selaphiel]

these days i don’t pray when i close my eyes—

Perhaps it is cruel to think that she might simply leave if he does not look at her. It is almost certainly dismissive, cold. But he is tired, Selaphiel. For years he had tried to hide the grief that consumed him, ravaged him, left him brittle and weak.

And then…

Something in him had changed when Firion became the hero they all needed. Their mother, Mazikeen. And no doubt there were others. It had occurred to Selaphiel then that he had never come close to being what any of them had needed and had, in fact, been little more than a burden.

That, you see, is why he had taken to the Ruins, this place of forgotten things. This is his punishment. Which is all to say that it is almost certainly cruel for him to hope that she might leave him to his self-pity if he does not look her in the face long enough. But she speaks again and he feels the strangest thing.

A mix of dread and relief.
Dread because he does not have the energy to force himself into a more pleasant shape. Relief because she has chosen to stay and there is something so sweet in that.

The mention of eggs coaxes out the softest of smiles, barely there at all. More apparition than anything measurable when he turns his head to look at her again. “Eggs?” he echoes. There is nothing mocking in his tone, just a kind of curiosity as he studies her golden face. That hadn’t occurred to him, but he thinks it is quite sad.

“My name is Selaphiel,” he murmurs eventually. Because if she is not going to leave then he may as well keep her.

—I just bite my tongue a bit harder