IC INBOX for FADE RIFT

[slipshot]

 

Gavin has a little box stuffed full of notes. Feel free to stuff one in there, if you like, or come say hi.

 

The notes may just be all doodles. 

just saying.

 

Comments

[slipshot]

[Whatever story he had been expecting, that one... wasn't it. He felt his stomach twist, an ill feeling wash up from it and grip at his throat, stealing whatever words could have come there. What was there to say?

So he didn't speak, he just hugged her even tighter, as if he could bring her into the present by sheer force of will - ground her here, not there, with warm arms.]

[arlathvhen]

[ She wants to talk about Zevran, about how he was, what they'd done to him, but that's not hers to reveal. The scars on his body, the way he looked, the way he spoke--It haunted her still, but it wasn't her hurt to reveal. She just lets Gavin squeeze her, taking comfort in the warmth. ]

It feels like...everyone I know is hurt or hurting. And I'm just. Here. Feeling bad for myself because bad things happened to other people.

[slipshot]

You aren't 'just here'.

[The words are quiet - he was still struggling with the story, trying to picture it and coming up only with horror.]

You are far from 'just here', Beleth. I... Thank you. For going after him. Don't admonish yourself for your feelings... It's only natural for you to feel bad when other people are. But you're doing everything you can to alleviate the hurt.

[arlathvhen]

Am I doing everything I can?

[ She certainly isn't right now, she's just being miserable and getting Gavin's shirt wet. But his words still visibly relax her. She did try, after all, no one can deny that. She got her ass kicked, and she might have almost died, but she did try.

And Zevran was back. ]

...Thank you, Gavin. I just don't...want to feel like I haven't done enough. That I'm putting my own troubles over other people's.

But. We did it. And I was scared, but I didn't give up. I guess that counts for something.

[slipshot]

You're doing far more than me. [He says the words wryly, as if he is joking, but he isn't. The guilt is sharp as a knife in his chest. He snuggles in closer, nuzzling his nose into her hair.]

It counts for everything, Beleth. Trust me.