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[wythersake]

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[wythersake]

But you'd hurt yourself.

[ and how often have they talked around that ]

[libratus]

[ Ah.

A muscle in his cheek tightens. ]

That is my decision to make.

[wythersake]

That doesn't mean that I'll cheer it on. You said that you want to bury the both of you. You've said that you don't have anyone else,

[ well. not said, per se. ]

[libratus]

I have you.

[ Doesn't he? (For how long?) ]

I don't mean-- it isn't on your shoulders. You help. Being here, [ the ghost of a smile, ] even in stinking Kirkwall, that helps. If I can be kinder to him, that will help, too.

[wythersake]

[ isn't it?

i'd choose you, but only because he wouldn't ask. i'd choose you, but he hasn't, not really. what a peculiar skill, to take oneself hostage. he needs space: a clear hall, a wall to punch. something that rage can't bruise. wouldn't it be easier if he could just be angry about this? maker, isn't he allowed to be angry?

isaac drifts toward the bed, lifts a hand free of balled linen to kiss its knuckles; soft. ]

You have yourself.

[ it's all the three of them share. ]

[libratus]

[ The sideways pull of his lips is brittle and thin, but that at least, he has the sense to push back inside again where it needn't be laid at Isaac's feet. Somehow, his breath stays steady. ]

You know you're kinder than you ought to be, sometimes.

[ His hand gives an answering squeeze, grateful but-- releasing. (Who needs skin? A heart?) ]

I'll lock up.