my heart's on fire—anditsdefinitelynotbecauseofyou

Nairn studied her, watched her hands as she punctuated each word. Dalish, he only caught bits and pieces that he understood. And even when it devolved into Dalish that he couldn't follow, the meaning was easy to understand with context.

And then she was crying. He was quiet, until she declared that he was still her heart; her soul; and he exhaled quietly. Reached for her, to pry her fingers from her palms. Pulled her to sit next to him. And once he's pried at least one hand from digging nails into her own flesh, he'd bring her hand to his chest.

Wasn't my choice, you know. There was no heartbeat; nothing but the hum of machinary. You can't heal what ain't there. He drifted off again, studying her face. And after a quiet moment, he reached to wipe her eyes, his thumb gentle as he swept it underneath her eyes.

'sides, you got out of this. Why would I wanna bring you back in? He gestured to the tunnel systems. You're better than a thief and a smuggler, and you know it. I promised you, a long time ago, that you'd get out. No, he'd promised they'd get out. And that hadn't happened.

Caressing her face with the hand that had wiped her tears, he sighed. Ir abelas, ma vhenan.