The witty and the weird

Zevran’s expression shattered at her words, the easy charm replaced by a grief so raw it felt like a physical blow. The world around them seemed to narrow, all the noise of the city fading into a hollow silence as he took in the weight of her news. For a moment, he could only stare at her, the grief in her eyes a mirror of his own, and he felt the ground shift beneath him, as if the very foundation of his being had cracked.

Arissa... he whispered, her name catching in his throat. The daughter he had never met, the child he had dreamed of protecting from afar, was gone. It was a sorrow he’d never prepared himself for, a wound he didn’t know how to bear. Zevran had always lived a life on the edge, flirting with danger and death, but he’d never imagined that loss would cut so deeply, nor that it would come in this form.

Taking a slow, steadying breath, he forced himself to focus on Maika, who had borne this grief alone all these years. The change in her, the shadows in her eyes, the strength she wore like armor—it was all painfully clear to him now. And in that moment, he realized how much he had missed, how much he had failed to protect by staying away. The warmth that had once defined her was still there, but it had been forged into something stronger, something hardened by sorrow.

Stepping closer, he reached out, his hand hovering just inches from her cheek, hesitant, as if afraid she might pull away. Maika... I can’t imagine the pain you’ve carried, losing her and facing that without me. I wish I had been there—I wish I had done things differently. But I’m here now. Not to fix what can’t be fixed... but to stand with you, to be whatever you need, however you need it.

@Maika Arainai