I loved you too, he could say, if it would do the slightest bit of good. I loved you to fucking distraction whenever you were off saving every poor wretch in Thedas at your own expense, and I couldn't think of a damn thing but your safety for as long as you were gone.
I loved you when you acted like there was no greater imposition than my asking you to be careful and keep me posted. I loved you even when I knew that not a single word I said to you would ever, ever stick in your head or make a shred of difference. I don't need to lose any more sleep over the kind of love that feels like living on the edge of a precipice.
"Safe travels," he says, and returns to his work. Saying it won't make them so. But he'll say it anyway, and mean it as much as he always has.
If Vandelin said the words out loud, they would cut deeply, but Kit would not find fault with them. Loving a man who belongs to death already is a bit like that, isn't it?
His throat is tight, his eyes wet--must be the cold, dry air--when he steps quietly out of Vandelin's office and eases the door closed behind him.
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I loved you when you acted like there was no greater imposition than my asking you to be careful and keep me posted. I loved you even when I knew that not a single word I said to you would ever, ever stick in your head or make a shred of difference. I don't need to lose any more sleep over the kind of love that feels like living on the edge of a precipice.
"Safe travels," he says, and returns to his work. Saying it won't make them so. But he'll say it anyway, and mean it as much as he always has.
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His throat is tight, his eyes wet--must be the cold, dry air--when he steps quietly out of Vandelin's office and eases the door closed behind him.