He was weak. His blood boiled and his eyes burned. He felt like a damn furnace was shoved inside him, felt like Hell itself was trying to birth from his skeletal body. The Plague was killing him. Perhaps faster than it had so far effected others, attacking his body with a ferociousness only matched by the stubbornness in his black eyes. His jaw clenched and he pushed onward.
Of course Rhonen's disease would love him a little too much.
His body had already wrestled with it once before, and was now weakened against it.
That bastard.
He had to find Leliana.
She'd come this way, stumbling away from him. He hadn't even been able to call for her, his throat closed in pain and the fire inside him drying it out completely. But he had to find her. They had to stick together. He needed her safe.
It wasn't Leliana that he'd found though, as he dropped to his knees for the third time in the last hour. Or maybe it'd been longer. Or shorter. What did it matter? He sighed and sank lower. He wasn't getting up this time. He couldn't get up this time. Just a little rest, was all. Just a breather. Just needed a little rest for a minute. Then he'd get up again. He'd find her.
His cheek pressed to the cold earth, his head tilted awkwardly from the helmet of bone jutting out of his face and digging into the ground. Tears of blood leaked from his eyes, trailing like warpaint down his face. It wasn't until a little nose found him that he let out another breath, a weak cough. Followed by another one.
"Hi, baby," he rasped quietly. At least if he died now, he would have seen his only son once more.
we're slaves to any semblance of touch
Lord, we should quit but we love it too much
