[Bellamy catches his arm again, and he wants to listen. He wants it, badly, the ache of it trembling in him. Wants to be able to believe that they'll find a way, that she'll be safe, that he'll be able to touch her again, hold her, tell her how sorry he is that he ran, that he left her.
But then there's the Nest. There's everything Cathaway's told him, shown him, the truth between her words and the Prince's and Nirad and Rhan. The pain of his brood all falling, one by one. The black swirling swarm of the Enemy shrieking in the air of Polis' throne room, the press of desperate urgency in his head on Shril, the dark, monstrous fear bearing down at Cathaway's back.
He isn't strong enough for faith. Not against those odds.]
(I can't.)
[The veils hide it, at least, as the wet of his eyes spills over. He pulls away from Bellamy one more time, turning, again, to walk away.]
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But then there's the Nest. There's everything Cathaway's told him, shown him, the truth between her words and the Prince's and Nirad and Rhan. The pain of his brood all falling, one by one. The black swirling swarm of the Enemy shrieking in the air of Polis' throne room, the press of desperate urgency in his head on Shril, the dark, monstrous fear bearing down at Cathaway's back.
He isn't strong enough for faith. Not against those odds.]
( I can't. )
[The veils hide it, at least, as the wet of his eyes spills over. He pulls away from Bellamy one more time, turning, again, to walk away.]