[ Gildor wipes the side of his mouth on the back of one hand from where he sits, kneeling and folded over. He no longer needs Rust to hold the memory of Keya across the link - she is there and bloody and made real in his mind.
He keeps her at the forefront of his thoughts and goes through the motions. Fear, sadness, and anger that shifts to a rarely felt rage. It is silently desolate as his mind, but no less impassioned as his music. While condensed, everything is felt without hesitation, without temptation to drink and drown it all away. And though he didn't ask for this sudden onrush, he allows it.
It is a stark contrast to Rust. Gildor processes what was forced on him, but Rust drags up and inflicts pain upon himself. It draws the bard from his own processing and makes him scrutinize the detective. ]
( You are sick. )
[ Not an answer. A statement made on observation, plain and honest. No ill intent or bite behind it, though it is still cruel to say. One sick mess to another.
A pause before he offers a real answer, also sincere. ]
no subject
He keeps her at the forefront of his thoughts and goes through the motions. Fear, sadness, and anger that shifts to a rarely felt rage. It is silently desolate as his mind, but no less impassioned as his music. While condensed, everything is felt without hesitation, without temptation to drink and drown it all away. And though he didn't ask for this sudden onrush, he allows it.
It is a stark contrast to Rust. Gildor processes what was forced on him, but Rust drags up and inflicts pain upon himself. It draws the bard from his own processing and makes him scrutinize the detective. ]
( You are sick. )
[ Not an answer. A statement made on observation, plain and honest. No ill intent or bite behind it, though it is still cruel to say. One sick mess to another.
A pause before he offers a real answer, also sincere. ]
( Yes. )