Carry me away.

[Eoin Rodain]

Eoin had remained back at the castle after the interrogation. The ranger had been quiet, parting ways with Orin immediately after the Saelisian was dead but couldn't seem to bring himself to return to Nemeris. His mind was in a fog, this creeping darkness edging its way to the forefront that he never once felt before, and he struggled to get a grasp on it.

They were supposed to question him. They were supposed to get information from the captive. And, although he and Orin had managed to get answers...Eoin hadn't hesitated to maim the man. His first instinct had been to draw blood, to hear him scream as those bastards had tortured him nearly every day for the last year. Like they made him scream, made him wish for death. The memory of those scars burned beneath his clothes as he finally climbed into the saddle of his horse to head off, just before the sun began to set.

It was long passed nightfall by the time he made it back to the manor, and he couldn't be sure if she was even still awake. So he was quiet, moving to take care of Nomad before silently stepping inside the large and empty house. Those grey eyes finally looked down at himself in the dimness, noticing the splotches of blood that stained his tunic and most likely his face. His hand drifted into view where the dried blood began to crack on his skin.

He hadn't hesitated to kill the man. And after it all, he didn't feel any better about it. Eoin was still angry for the year he had lost, angry at everything he had lost, and spilling traitorous blood did nothing to ease the pain. It only gave him more.

[ Nemeris Arundel ]

[Nemeris Arundel]

Nemeris did not often worry about others, but she would be lying if she said she was not worried for Eoin the moment he left her manor with Orin. Sure, it would seem good to get that revenge-- but it also meant more confusion and pain, and that was why she worried about Eoin. His torturing of another man-- A Saelisian no less, would surely cause him to stumble back in his progression. If he was even making any yet.

She spent the day alone, but that was no different. And despite it being late when Eoin finally returned, Nemeris was still awake, in her room. The door was open, and she had several candles lighting the room as she sat on her bed reading her book of poetry.

At the sound of the door, she glanced up from her book and towards the entrance of her room. She was often nervous when she heard the door open--mostly because she was not used to having a house guest and worried that more bandits had broken in. She set the book aside and climbed off her bed, walking barefoot as she left her room and out to the hall and a the top of the stairs, she glanced down to find Eoin, which made her slightly relieved. "You're back?" She spoke quietly, questioning him.

[Eoin Rodain]

Standing there in the main hall, he was frozen. Everything was quiet in the manor and yet his mind was screaming a million thoughts and he couldn't comprehend them, couldn't decipher them, or even ignore them. They wanted him to break down and fall to his knees, to recall everything that had happened.

Why, though, was this suddenly just happening? He had had the nightmares, for certain, but this was an altogether different feeling. It was overwhelming and he could feel his heart thundering wildly inside his chest, breath caught in his lungs as some unknown fury was rising up to the surface.

Eoin wanted to scream.

He was almost surprised when he heard the opening door upstairs, the gentle creak on the floorboards with each step she took. Those tired, emotion-filled eyes of grey lifted towards the top of the steps when she emerged into sight. Did she not expect him to return? Where else would he have gone? But these questions weren't voiced because, in truth, he hadn't known what to expect. A part of him still wondered if his presence here hurt her more than it helped. Right now, though, seeing her was enough to quiet just a small fraction of those harried thoughts in his head, and he was desperately clinging to that.

Saying nothing, the ranger silently ascended the steps at an agonizingly slow pace, as if every step made his limbs ache. And still, no words left his lips as he approached, drawing himself near so that shaking arms could wrap around her thin waist and his face buried into her shoulder.

[Nemeris Arundel]

Something did not seem or feel right. There was a heaviness in the air, and it was almost suffocating. Her bright colored blue eyes watched him as he ascended the steps slowly. With each step he made, she felt that thick air fill her lungs and nearly squeeze everything out of her. It was getting harder to breathe, but she said nothing and watched him.

The interrogation of the prisoner--she knew it had been a bad idea. She spotted the dried up blood all over him and she knew then, he was not taking it as well as he thought he would. It wasn't the time to say 'I told you so'. He needed comfort, not bitterness. And Nemeris would try. Her eyes looked at him curiously as he stood before her. But Eoin did not say anything, and neither did she. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into her shoulder, so she slowly wrapped her arms back around him, resting one hand on the middle of his back, while her other hand moved to the back of his head. She pressed a kiss to his temple before whispering near his ear. "You're safe, Eoin."

She held him tighter, then, her embrace would draw out some of those feelings he had, replacing them with a quiet comforting calmness. She'd not let go of him until he was ready. Until he felt a little more at ease. "I'm here..." Nemeris whispered to him.

[Eoin Rodain]

No, nothing was right. No matter what he did or thought, Eoin would come right back to this moment. If he hadn't confronted the Saelisian, he'd be feeling guilty and wondering if he should have. Maybe it was worse now, after taking the man's life...or maybe it wasn't. It was that crazy, spiraling-out-of-control feeling he couldn't get a hold of, so he was clinging to her. Nemeris was his foundation, his solid ground that he desperately needed right now.

She was the only one here for him, after all he had endured.

Alexandria had kind words to say once she managed to finally find them, but that's all they were and would be. She could be nothing but his queen now. He had no other friends that truly cared enough for his well-being. Perhaps this was why he began to build that house in the woods...so he could just be alone. There was no one else.

Then he felt her slender arms wrapping around him, the kiss to his temple, the quiet, soothing words. The sensation of that gift she possessed began to ease the tension he felt in his entire body, and Eoin wanted to do nothing but give in.

Then he remembered.

Drawing back a little and quickly, tired grey eyes found her face as he shook his head. As much as it would help him, he knew, he didn't want her doing it. "No," he said, his voice finally breaking the quiet of the manor. "I don't...want you feeling...any of this." Nemeris didn't need it, she didn't deserve it. Maybe he did, though, and it was why the feelings wouldn't quickly go away. "I just..." His words trailed off because he didn't even know.

[Nemeris Arundel]

Sadly, Nemeris could relate to almost everything Eoin was going through and feeling. She had lost her father, her husband, and her son, all on the same day. She was forced out of the only place she ever knew and ended up in a land where she knew no one. She had no friends, no one. That cold bitterness had taken over her and made others not wish to deal with her. Yet, Eoin had. Brennus had. Even Alexandria and maybe Orin. But with Brennus' death and Eoin's disappearance; with the war-- and losing her baby, she fell into a dark depression, isolating herself from everything and everyone.

When he pulled away from her, bright eyes stared back at him, her brow lifting as he spoke, claiming he did not want her to feel any of what he was feeling and what he had been through. She gave him a curious glance and shook her head. Her voice remained quiet as she spoke, "I already have. Not just from you..." The tone of her voice perhaps insinuating that he was not the only one to have been through what he was going through. He was not alone and Nemeris understood more than he probably realized.

"Would you like some tea?" She smirked slightly, knowing he might refuse her tea this time around because of how it affected him the last time. Though, perhaps it was what he needed--something to help him relax, especially if he did not wish for her to help him. "It can be regular, plain tea if you would like." If he did not want the same tea she gave him before, she would make him just a simple chamomile.

[Eoin Rodain]

"And you do not need more," he told her quickly, his voice firm. There was different pain from hers that weighed heavily on his soul...and now possibly the realization he had blatantly killed a man, enemy or not. Eoin thought he was better than that, and he didn't want Nemeris to somehow find that out, to feel the conflict and guilt or the unresolved anger. The anger he couldn't understand or get a grasp on.

It would paralyze him if he didn't get a hold of himself. But just when he was beginning to feel like he was finding his way, he faltered and was spiraling back into the deep. Things weren't feeling right again.

What had happened?

Eoin stepped away from her and her warmth, backing up until he hit a railing or a wall at the top of that landing, whichever came first. He was slowly shaking his head, silently answering her question of tea before a hand ran down his face. Something inside his chest felt tight and his breathing was suddenly labored.

Why couldn't he shake this?

Suddenly, he felt like he was under the water, the waves constantly crashing down upon his head and he couldn't find his way back to the surface. One attempt at swimming forward seemed to drag him several paces back, tumbling head over heel, and he felt the strange sting of tears in his eyes. Those greys flickered back to her, lips parting to try and speak before his attention dropped to his hands. "I killed him, Nem..." His voice was so quiet but heard in the empty, echoing manor. It cracked and he drew in a staggering breath. "Without hesitation. I became...one of them. It...hurts me now but I think I would do it again if given the chance..."

[Nemeris Arundel]

"And you do not need more," The firmness in his voice took her slightly by surprise and she narrowed her eyes at him as a brow rose. Despite what little bit she had shown him of her abilities, he still didn’t seem to fully grasp or understand it. His being this close to her was enough for her to pick up on the emotions that weighed on him. She could feel the heaviness in the air and the weight on his shoulders. She could sense that guilt and anger that shook him.

She knew the moment Orin had taken him away, that if he returned, he would be exactly like this.

Blue eyes stared at him as he backed away from her and moved to the wall. This wasn’t the Eoin she had known, though she could hardly blame him with everything he had been through. Still, it pained her to see such a strong-willed, easy-going man lose himself and break the way that he was now.

"I killed him, Nem..." He told her. As if she hadn’t already assumed so? He was covered in someone else’s blood and the guilt-ridden posture of the man was enough to have given it away. Nemeris continued to stare at him, her lips twitching in the slightest frown. He felt bad about killing a man who would have killed their queen without hesitation?

After his admittance, Nemeris wrapped her arms around her small frame and allowed a brief silence to linger through the manor as his words settled in the air. She finally shook her head and spoke quietly. “No.” Her voice was firm now. “Not one of them.” She took several steps closer to him until she was standing right in front of him again. Slender fingers reached up and she hooked one of them under his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Those men came here to kill Alexandria and nearly succeeded. How different is it if you had been there to guard and protect her? Or for anyone you cared about? Would you have killed them without hesitation, then?”

She let her hand drop back down at her side but kept her eyes on him. “You just might have saved her, and Aralore, from whatever could have happened if he returned to his home.” She knew none of what she was saying would change anything or convince him that what he had done was right or would get rid of that guilt- but still, she could only remind him of the purpose of what he had done and why he wasn’t one of them. “Aralore has done nothing to hurt Saelis… All we have wanted was our freedom from their tyranny. We never waged war on them...And you were tortured because of greed and power… And I am so sorry that you had to endure everything that you did.” Nemeris reached her hand up again and placed it on his cheek. “The difference is that you killed him with reason…”

Perhaps her words would not help, but she would try regardless. And if they didn’t- she would give him something else to do to try and focus his attention on anything else. To anyone else, the abrupt change of subject may have come across as bitter and heartless, as though she did not care for what he was going through, but if he knew her at all, he’d know she only meant it to help shake him out of this. “There is something wrong with my stairs.  I tripped when something came loose and almost fell.  Can you take a look at them, please?”

[Eoin Rodain]

It wasn't that he felt guilty for killing the man. It was that he felt like he had stooped to their level. It made him feel like someone he was not.

Then again, did he even know who he was anymore?

He'd gone through this when he first arrived on Aralore, after witnessing the slaughter of his entire clan. After he had failed them. Eoin didn't know who he was anymore, didn't know how to better himself until he found a purpose. That very same purpose was looming over him now, yet it was not drawing him out into the light like it had once done. He felt lost and broken, without a fix in sight. Nemeris tried, but what could she really do when she was full of cracks herself, forced to feel everything he did because he simply stood there?

Then, she was suddenly closer, making him look up at her and he reluctantly did so; those grey eyes filled with tired, raw emotion that he didn't bother to hide. Even if he had wanted to, he knew there was no point with her. 'The difference is that you killed him with reason...' "It didn't feel like it. I just...wanted blood...I went to this place I told myself I wouldn't," he explained to her quietly, but even if it sounded like he was denying it, he still leaned into the comfort of her hand against his cheek. The whole thing was confusing, and had blindsided him. Perhaps that was why it was affecting him so.

And just like that, before he could delve any deeper into that black pit, Nem was purposely veering them off topic. Oh, he certainly knew her by now to not be offended. He knew she was not deflecting his feelings because she understood them, she felt them herself. She was simply trying to get him to forget them, even if briefly, for sake of his sanity. Maybe even hers as well.

He caught her hand within his own. "There's...something wrong with your stairs..." he repeated in a murmur, and there was a very small hint of amusement in his tone, small enough to be missed. Although he knew what she was doing, this sounded like a complete lie. Had she really tripped?

Eoin pushed off of the wall to stand a little straighter, but he didn't brush passed her nor even look at the staircase. Those slate-colored eyes were still watching her closely. "Show me," he said, his voice still quiet. He wouldn't move until she did.

[Nemeris Arundel]

Nemeris had seen it before-- men who had become bloodthirsty, wanting power and not stopping until they succumbed to that need. Even with Eoin’s admitting he wanted blood, she still had a hard time believing there was no hope left for him- that he had allowed himself to fall too far into that darkness. She could feel there was still lightness in him, especially as he leaned into her touch as if seeking her comfort.

Her gaze quickly moved to their hands as he caught hers, and her brows rose in slight confusion. When he repeated her, she returned her gaze to him and nodded slightly. “Yes. Something is loose,” she quietly repeated, her green eyes remained on his face, as if daring him to doubt her.

When he pushed away from the wall, she gently took his hand from his. He was telling her to show him, and Nemeris was certain he was trying to call her bluff by the way he looked at her instead of the stairs. She stared back at him, as if unbothered by his gaze. Part of her had expected him to agree and that he would get to it later once he was feeling better, so it would have given her some time to try and tamper with a floorboard. So she stood there quietly, probably making it obvious that nothing was really wrong with the stairs and she was trying to think of a way to prove that there was. The only thing wrong with her stairs was that they had caused her to lose her baby when the bandits attacked and pushed her down them.

Finally, she nodded and turned away, heading to the staircase where she slowly walked down them as if she were trying to search for the problem stair. When she heard one squeak underneath her foot, she turned back to look at him. “Right here.” She tapped her foot on the stair in question before she backed down a couple more steps to make room for him to look at it.

[Eoin Rodain]

At least one of them believed he wouldn't change. And yet, every day Eoin began to wonder who he really was. Could change really be a bad thing? Could a person become someone else entirely...would that be so wrong? Had he not changed from the man he had once been on Aldsage?

From the moment he had returned to Aralore, Eoin felt like he was having to rediscover himself, and he wasn't entirely sure it was wrong. At first, he felt lost, it was almost terrifying, but the more he drifted away from what he had once been used to, the better he felt. This situation with the Saelisian, though, had been a bit of a setback, and it was why he was feeling so affected by everything.

Still, he was feeling like that different person now, even while he stared this woman down because, yes, he believed she was bluffing. It had been Nemeris' way to draw him back to himself, but perhaps he was trying to draw her out of herself as well, out of this seclusion. And if he had to start with a stupid stair, then so be it.

While she felt like she should be withering away from existence in this empty house, Eoin felt the need to keep moving, to keep being active, otherwise he would fall to his own thoughts. Exactly what he had been doing now. So, Eoin still remained there watching her. He wondered if she would just give in and tell him she was lying, which was why a corner of his mouth twitched up into a barely-there smirk, but it had almost appeared.

He'd been up and down this staircase a few times already, and there was nothing loose. Sure, the steps were worn and some creaked from use, but nothing else was wrong unless she had purposely done something. Or, he supposed it was possible she tripped over herself and damaged it. But she was lying...he could feel it.

There was this strange calm that suddenly washed over him- maybe the slight humor of the situation helped him temporarily forget everything he had just gone through. Eoin wasn't sure how long it would last and so that worry was going to slowly creep back. Still, he descended the steps slowly until he got to that particular one, testing it beneath his weight. Reaching down, the wood didn't move, so those grey eyes drifting back to the woman in knowing.

Gripping onto the railing, his other arm stretched out so the opposite palm could press against the wall on the other side of the staircase. Eoin took a single step down, bending at the waist just a little so that he could look her in the eye as she stood on the step below him. "Maybe your skirts are too long, Nem..." Yes, he was insinuating that she had been a clutz. And she was a liar.

A glint of mirth filtered into his eyes then, and he studied her face for a long moment as he fell into contemplative silence. "Your gift...can you only draw away emotion, or can you share your own?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

[Nemeris Arundel]

Her seclusion was different, though perhaps, in a way, similar to what Eoin may have been feeling at the moment. In a matter of days, she had lost a father, a husband, and her son--all of which had been completely out of her control. She often wondered if she were able to go back in time, if she could have, or would have done something to change the outcome. Maybe she should have hired someone to rid of her brother, to prevent his corrupted mind from ruining Saryndale and her family. Her father might still be alive, or it would be her and her husband on the throne right now- her son safe and being brought up the way she would have wanted him to.

The thought often crossed her mind that if she were to run into her son now, would she even recognize him? Would he remember her? He would be around thirteen or fourteen years old at this point in time, and surely, her brother had completely corrupted him by now. He hated her. Those three words haunted her each and every time she thought about Christian. Would he even wish to see her ever again? The answer (in her own mind) was always no--and it pushed her further into her seclusion. There wasn’t really any point in her existence. At one point, she had a small shred of hope, and she had foolishly believed in it. But it had all been for nothing and left her hurt. It reminded her that there was no hope. This was her life and she did not deserve happiness or hope for anything anymore.

Nemeris watched as Eoin tested the step she had pointed out. She knew there was nothing wrong with that step--it had been the first one she had been able to cause to squeak. If anything, maybe the nail needed to be fastened deeper into the wood to hold it down and prevent the creaking noise. There certainly was nothing wrong with the step, though. But she was just a foolish woman who did not know how to care for a house on her own.  A while ago, she had dismissed those who had once been here to help. Nemeris had lived a life where everything had been taken care of for her. But now, she deserved to live in the dark, isolation that absorbed her. So what did it matter if she took care of a creaky stair?

Her bright colored eyes caught his grey ones as he glanced back at her with that knowing look. He knew she was lying, and she could either allow him to believe that, or she could try and quickly come up with something else to prove that there was, in fact, something wrong with the stair.

As he spoke, Nemeris narrowed her eyes at him with a look of feigned offense, though it came across as more believable than not. “It has nothing to do with my skirts,” she retorted. “Maybe I am mistaken on which stair it is...” She did not move away yet, since Eoin kept his gaze on her as if studying her face. Was he trying to read her expressions for her lies? Was he trying to get her to admit to them, or make her feel uncomfortable by his stare? Well, it didn’t work. She stared right back at him, one of her eyebrows raising as if challenging him back. Her features were unexpressive, not giving him any bit of sign that she was bluffing or even that she was denying his suspicions.

The moment seemed to linger a bit longer than it should have--the two of them standing in silence, staring at each other, and Nemeris decided she was done with whatever this was. She raised both her brows in a gesture that if words escaped her, would have said ‘well then…’ before she turned her face and looked down the stairs to see if she could spot any other stair that might look off and use that as her next excuse. She had been about to take a step down when she heard his voice, mentioning her gift. Her blue eyes returned to his and she gave him a questioning look. He was asking if she could share her own emotions just as she could absorb others. Her brows furrowed slightly as she studied him now, wondering why he was asking her this. “I…” She gave him a pensive look as if she wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. “I’m not really sure… I don’t believe so.” In truth, she had never tried. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want anyone to know anything about her, including her emotions. It was easier to shut people out than to try and explain the things she thought about or felt. “Why do you ask this?” No one had ever asked her something like that before, and it almost made her feel uncomfortable. Her discomfort seemed a bit obvious as she turned away from him and took a few more steps down the staircase until she heard another creak from the wooden board. “Yes… I was mistaken. It is certainly this one…”

[Eoin Rodain]

Living and existing were two completely different things. Eoin found himself switching between both, not knowing which one to linger in, every now and then realizing that he was unsure of who he even was anymore. Some days, he was just a name. He had no title, no land, no purpose even if Aralore could give that all to him. It was a matter of wanting that again...and in truth, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted it.

'Maybe I am mistaken on which stair it is...' He really wasn't listening anymore and completely ignored the look of offense on her face. He didn't even care if she really was offended. At least, he appreciated her trying to switch his mind onto another path of thought, and she had succeeded...it just wasn't the one she tried directing him to.

Eoin didn't know why he was curious about her magic all of a sudden. All he knew was that it occurred to him that she was so willing to take everyone else's burden, their pain, their negative emotions...but she wasn't sharing her own. Would that not help? To share it with another, to help them understand? It was what she was always trying to get him to do. He wasn't staring because he was trying to get her to crack. He wasn't staring to try and make her uncomfortable. He was just watching her like she was this open book, written in a language he couldn't read and yet desperately wanted to.

Then, the discomfort was real. He didn't have to have gramarye to sense that from her, and yet he didn't seem to waver. A part of him felt bad for it, but he didn't bother moving. 'Yes...I was mistaken. It is certainly this one...' He was ignoring her again, knowing he should probably just let all of this go. Still, for some reason, he couldn't.

The man took a single step closer to her before he stopped. "Are you afraid...for someone else to know how you feel?" He had to stop, he knew. In all honesty, he didn't know why this was suddenly bothering him so much, why he needed that connection. "You're so willing to take my burdens...why can I not help carry some of yours?"

[Nemeris Arundel]

Much like Eoin felt he was switching between living and existing, Nemeris experienced as well. Inside this manor, she lived in isolation where nothing about her mattered. She lived within her own mind surrounded by the cobwebs and darkness. She only existed. Outside of these walls, she had a name, she was a noble here in Aralore, though she was of royal blood elsewhere, and she once had a purpose that had become lost to her after the war. But now, she simply just existed.

It was rare that anyone tried to challenge her or stand up to her. She had always succeeded at being intimidating enough that no one lingered for long around her. No one questioned her or dared to. Yet, here Eoin was, doing just that as he stared at her, asking her things no one else ever had, and making her feel slightly intimidated and uncomfortable.

He was ignoring her attempts in trying to convince him that something was wrong with her steps, and she knew he either did not care anymore, or he didn’t believe her. Based on what she knew about him, she assumed it was the latter of the two.

"Are you afraid...for someone else to know how you feel?"

If her eyebrow could raise any further, it would have. Nemeris quietly scoffed at the idea. “Afraid?” She said the word as if she were offended by the idea that he would think she were afraid of something like that. She had never thought about it before, honestly, because no one ever was interested enough, or too scared, to know anything about her. In truth, however, maybe she was afraid. She never wanted to let another person in through the walls she enclosed around herself.

"You're so willing to take my burdens...why can I not help carry some of yours?" Nemeris stared at him for a long moment, remaining silent as she processed his words. She wasn’t entirely sure she knew how to answer him. After a moment, she looked down at the step she stood on, pondering what she should say or do. Her burdens. Were they truly burdens to carry? Or was it just a sadness, a bitter hatred for the cruel world that existed around her, and the dark cloud that loomed over her head no matter how difficult she tried to move away from it?

“You cannot help me,” she said devoid of any emotion as she finally looked back at him. “I have no burdens.” Perhaps that was another lie, but truthfully, Nemeris felt whatever burdens she did carry, they were her punishment for whatever she had done wrong in her life. She deserved them, and no one else did. Especially not a man who had enough of his own burdens to carry.

“Are you not going to fix my stairs?  Or shall I continue to just trip over them?” She tried to change the subject and wondered if Eoin would give up on her and move on since she was trying to push him away.

Her chest felt tight, though, and a heavy lump strangled her from within her throat. No one had ever asked her if they could help her, and it left her terribly confused and uncomfortable. He already knew about most of the burdens of her past that she carried within her, and wasn’t sure how he thought he could help her carry them. The emotions behind the burdens, perhaps, but he did not deserve to hold onto those, along with his own. Perhaps he would say the same thing about her taking on his, too.

But this was her curse. It was what she had been born with, burdened with, and what she was used to.

[Eoin Rodain]

Eoin was certainly challenging her, but he wasn't intentionally trying to hurt her. He wasn't trying to make her shrink down or shrivel up, and he knew that he wasn't causing her to. She was just stubborn, clinging to ideas that she knew, deep down, were wrong...but she was so far gone in them that it would be a difficult feat to dig herself out of. To realize that there were far better things outside of this manor filled with darkness and memories. If she was going to continue trying to urge him away from his own demons, it was high time she began to do the same with herself.

And he was just as bloody stubborn. She was going to have to do better than this. Perhaps, years ago, that look would have made him uneasy, but now he met it with a simple stare of his own. She knew all she needed to about him- he had nothing else to share or fear. There was nothing to hide. Nemeris was going to get exactly what she dished out, and she would have to literally kick him out of her own to get him to relent. Yet, even then, he couldn't make any promises to stop. He wasn't so willing to let her wither away in here.

'I have no burdens.' Eoin flat out laughed at that. It wasn't entirely humorous and was certainly snarky, not believing a word of it. If it wasn't burdens, they were things she still wasn't willing to let go off and it was essentially the same thing. And she chose to believe she deserved them all. The two of them already had this conversation before, one that hadn't gone very well, so he wasn't about to start it all up again. But if they were truly friends, if they truly cared about each other, they both should be willing to help each other. They were both haunted by things, whether past or present, and wallowing in the shadows of them wouldn't help. He had been slow to except that because his wounds were still so fresh, but he was beginning to finally understand.

He couldn't do this alone. Neither could she.

Nemeris commented about the stairs, clearly trying to push him away but all he did was take that next step down to her, facing her slowly as though approaching a frightened doe. Or a glaring, angry one- same difference. If she allowed, Eoin was gently reaching for one of her hands to draw it up to his face. "You're not alone, Nem...despite how much you think you are," he spoke quietly, letting out a slow breath.

If she let that power of hers reach out, if they sensed his emotions, she'd feel the sharp tinges of pain and fear that remained at the edges of his mind. The ranger wasn't able to fully suppress them, but despite the mess he arrived here in, he had managed to push most of it back. And maybe that was because of everything else- of her, for her. She would also feel this warmth, like the feeling of a single ray of sun pouring through a hole in the forest canopy and warming your cold bones. There was an overwhelming need to help, a want to equally carry her fears before she crumbled beneath them. There was a fear of losing her, the one person who had graciously accepted him back when he returned to nothing but devastation. Perhaps Nem would realize that she was his lifeline right now. He needed her to be, and in turn, he couldn't willingly allow her to fall further into her darkness.