[ He feels Azem withdrawing and slowly comes back to the present. His cheeks are also wet, he realises. He touches them with his other hand and stares at the sheen of moisture on his fingertips. Come to think of it, he had never really let himself mourn his losses back then. He had been too consumed by the need to set things right, to restore what had been lost.
His people are gone. No amount of prayer can restore them. He understands that now but all the same: he cannot help but wish otherwise.
Letting his head loll against Azem's, he murmurs: ]
no subject
His people are gone. No amount of prayer can restore them. He understands that now but all the same: he cannot help but wish otherwise.
Letting his head loll against Azem's, he murmurs: ]
I don't know what else we could have done.