[ …He knows what it means. He’d known it the moment he’d thought to say it in support, and it’s not as if he doesn’t meant it. He does. From the bottom of his heart, he truly does, because he needs to return to Rivellon so desperately that it overpowers all. But… it doesn’t make it easier. He’s not a warrior, after all. He’s a soft-hearted man better suited to libraries than battlefields, so he’d simply hoped that his words wouldn’t reach that far. His words aren’t that important, surely. So— ]
…Drizzt.
[ That “Ah”, simple as it is, has all the feeling it needs. He reaches out in Communion before he can withdraw completely, but it’s not the sort of skin on skin that he craves in such a somber way. It’s the equivalent of just grabbing his sleeve before he withdraws completely. It holds him there, maybe, but… He’s also not sure what to say. He can’t apologize for his words. He means them, truly.
…But he’s also the sort of man that would sacrifice himself for his people. His own conflicts are nothing compared to saving his people. He could sacrifice his heart for them. He would, knowing it’s the greatest good he can give them. Or, it’s what he thinks.
He still holds that little bit tight, though. It’s like he doesn’t want the other man to pull away. ]
Don’t just “ah” me. [ He’s as prickly as ever, but the feeling of it leaks through more. Through that sarcasm, there’s more feeling behind it, but he’s careful to protect it. ] …I assume you wouldn’t have wanted the Tribune to die.
[ He pauses. Considers. And Fane’s voice softens just a little. ]
…But if you did, I couldn’t hold it against you.
[ …He’d done just as much, he thinks, though he has trouble admitting it. Can he regret the weapon he’d helped make? …No. Not truly. He thought of it as necessary. But it weighed as heavily on him as delivering a tainted Shard to a young girl that didn’t deserve it. Even if he doesn’t say it, that kind of weight sits like a rot in the mental space he’s carved for himself. ]
private
…Drizzt.
[ That “Ah”, simple as it is, has all the feeling it needs. He reaches out in Communion before he can withdraw completely, but it’s not the sort of skin on skin that he craves in such a somber way. It’s the equivalent of just grabbing his sleeve before he withdraws completely. It holds him there, maybe, but… He’s also not sure what to say. He can’t apologize for his words. He means them, truly.
…But he’s also the sort of man that would sacrifice himself for his people. His own conflicts are nothing compared to saving his people. He could sacrifice his heart for them. He would, knowing it’s the greatest good he can give them. Or, it’s what he thinks.
He still holds that little bit tight, though. It’s like he doesn’t want the other man to pull away. ]
Don’t just “ah” me. [ He’s as prickly as ever, but the feeling of it leaks through more. Through that sarcasm, there’s more feeling behind it, but he’s careful to protect it. ] …I assume you wouldn’t have wanted the Tribune to die.
[ He pauses. Considers. And Fane’s voice softens just a little. ]
…But if you did, I couldn’t hold it against you.
[ …He’d done just as much, he thinks, though he has trouble admitting it. Can he regret the weapon he’d helped make? …No. Not truly. He thought of it as necessary. But it weighed as heavily on him as delivering a tainted Shard to a young girl that didn’t deserve it. Even if he doesn’t say it, that kind of weight sits like a rot in the mental space he’s carved for himself. ]