Every man dies
But not every man truly lives
What has he done to spark this sort of interest? That his subtle mannerisms could reveal a girlish tendency in in her? The shadow that he remembers could not have thought so highly of him as to come rushing to his side like she does now. But … what if? What if he’d had the same impact on her that she had slaughtered him with so long ago? His eyes slide curiously to where she stands, so solid and thrumming with life. He remembers how quickly she had cut through him with a single syllable.
Kellan swallows.
“You are.” She repeats; and with a numb, knee-jerk reaction, Kellan shakes his head. He cannot be. But, none of that matters because suddenly she is touching him again and this time Kellan feels that familiar ache in his bones. What harm can it do to please her, indulge her? Kellan knows he’d follow her anywhere, if only she asked. So instead he smiles - a pale, slow thing. “I can be, if that’s something you want.” He offers to her.
This is the closest he’s ever come to his shadow. He knows that it may be the only time he can be this close. He’s experienced it before: this longing with her. She’d promised to see him again - or had he imagined it? Either way this meeting seems like a fulfillment of that promise, so he revels in the moment. This is the happiest he’s ever been.
