What might be Tabris leans into Illarion's touch, and nothing happens.
There's no horrifying moment where he feels his will wrenched away from him again and overwritten. There is only a quiet apology and an explanation that trails away into silence--that doesn't need completion to speak volumes.
"This is not." Between one instant and the next, the talon Kaworu's leaning against is a hand, is joined by Illarion's other hand as he cradles the angel's face and leans in to kiss his brow.
"This is not your fault, little bird. You do not have my foolishness on your shoulders." Cruel to rest anything else there, after all that evil men had freighted on him.
More quietly, in a tone that breaks subtly with emotion the shrike can't otherwise articulate: "I have missed you sorely."
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There's no horrifying moment where he feels his will wrenched away from him again and overwritten. There is only a quiet apology and an explanation that trails away into silence--that doesn't need completion to speak volumes.
"This is not." Between one instant and the next, the talon Kaworu's leaning against is a hand, is joined by Illarion's other hand as he cradles the angel's face and leans in to kiss his brow.
"This is not your fault, little bird. You do not have my foolishness on your shoulders." Cruel to rest anything else there, after all that evil men had freighted on him.
More quietly, in a tone that breaks subtly with emotion the shrike can't otherwise articulate: "I have missed you sorely."