"Death is not a choice." He snaps, perhaps a little too loud, a little too harsh, a little too frustrated. True, he'd chosen that road, that contract in hopes that he would die, but he did not choose death. Every hour of every day since his return, he's chosen to keep moving. Death is not a choice.
Life is a choice.
"They wanted something better. Who am I to deny them what I was given so freely ten years ago? What makes my life worth sparing over theirs?" Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But then the Sister would not know this- and would not care. They are threats to the Inquisition but on this- he will fight her.
He will lose, most likely, but he will make a valiant attempt for their lives.
"...for what?" That- that he does not expect. "For- the Crows?"
What?
"How can you possibly blame yourself for this?" Guilt. Guilt like Alistair's guilt and for a heated, visceral moment he wishes she would take it and leave. He cannot carry it. He can barely carry himself most days, how is he to hold these things as well?
no subject
Life is a choice.
"They wanted something better. Who am I to deny them what I was given so freely ten years ago? What makes my life worth sparing over theirs?" Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But then the Sister would not know this- and would not care. They are threats to the Inquisition but on this- he will fight her.
He will lose, most likely, but he will make a valiant attempt for their lives.
"...for what?" That- that he does not expect. "For- the Crows?"
What?
"How can you possibly blame yourself for this?" Guilt. Guilt like Alistair's guilt and for a heated, visceral moment he wishes she would take it and leave. He cannot carry it. He can barely carry himself most days, how is he to hold these things as well?