Little by little it subsides- even if it feels as though he's been crying forever, every tear he never shed in all his years. For Rinna, for Taliesin, for Wynne, for every friendly Crow he'd lost, for every life he took that left him with regret. Every hour he's lost worrying and planning, wound too tight to sleep waiting for something to give. Knowing that this was coming, what would likely be done and living it-

Surviving it-

He weeps. He curls in a tight arc around Anders as best he can, face still pressed to his throat, hands fisted in his robes. Nothing and no one would see him come loose until he was good and ready and he...is still not yet ready. This manner of weakness isn't something he knows how to recover from.

Little hitches overtake his breathing. He manages a faint, wordless whine as he drags himself closer still to Anders. As close as he can mange to asking him to stay.