[Shael brings a shaky hand up to his chest, fingers twisting in and clutching at the fabric of his shirt, trying to work out just what exactly the Inquisitor was telling him as he continues to deal with the dizzying, horrible feeling of having something so vital--because no matter how much he hated it, no matter how much he didn’t want it, it was still a part of him--get ripped away. It was like losing a limb, losing a part of himself, and it made it hard to breathe, hard to concentrate, and the Inquisitor is saying something about what happened with Leilith earlier and Shael isn’t surprised that he already knew about it, but what did he mean about doing the same to him?
A slow, horrified creeping realization crosses his face as he pieces the situation together in his mind. He...he must have almost done the same thing again. He had come close to losing control again.
It makes sense if he takes into account that the initial burst of magic was likely used to cut off his connection to the Fade to stop him from, well, doing something else he’d end up regretting. Had he really been so far gone that he didn’t notice? AGAIN? And for it to have been directed at the Inquisitor of all people...
Pathetic. He’s pathetic. All it took was a bit of brandy to loosen his tongue, for his grip on his emotions to slip, for him to...to burst in here like a storm and demand answers and he realizes with every step the Inquisitor takes towards him that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. He wants to get out. Wants to pick himself up off the floor and run out the door, but he’s still too scared to move, too miserable and horrified and he knows...he knows that Taliesin’s right. He can’t just run away again. He has to face the consequences of his actions and that frightens him perhaps more than anything else.
Sick dread swirls in his stomach, his heart nearly suffocating him as it beats hard and fast in his throat, the Inquisitor’s words slicing into him like knives. His breath comes in shaking gasps, his arms trembling both with effort and fear as those boots come to a stop in front of him, but still he can’t bring himself to look up. Doesn’t dare lift his head or his eyes and he’s barely able to collect his thoughts let alone communicate them, his words strained and shaking.]
I...I wasn’t...I wasn’t trying to...I didn’t realize that I was...
no subject
A slow, horrified creeping realization crosses his face as he pieces the situation together in his mind. He...he must have almost done the same thing again. He had come close to losing control again.
It makes sense if he takes into account that the initial burst of magic was likely used to cut off his connection to the Fade to stop him from, well, doing something else he’d end up regretting. Had he really been so far gone that he didn’t notice? AGAIN? And for it to have been directed at the Inquisitor of all people...
Pathetic. He’s pathetic. All it took was a bit of brandy to loosen his tongue, for his grip on his emotions to slip, for him to...to burst in here like a storm and demand answers and he realizes with every step the Inquisitor takes towards him that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. He wants to get out. Wants to pick himself up off the floor and run out the door, but he’s still too scared to move, too miserable and horrified and he knows...he knows that Taliesin’s right. He can’t just run away again. He has to face the consequences of his actions and that frightens him perhaps more than anything else.
Sick dread swirls in his stomach, his heart nearly suffocating him as it beats hard and fast in his throat, the Inquisitor’s words slicing into him like knives. His breath comes in shaking gasps, his arms trembling both with effort and fear as those boots come to a stop in front of him, but still he can’t bring himself to look up. Doesn’t dare lift his head or his eyes and he’s barely able to collect his thoughts let alone communicate them, his words strained and shaking.]
I...I wasn’t...I wasn’t trying to...I didn’t realize that I was...