The fighting creates the channel he needs to filter all that anger into. In the end, he doesn't know if Raphael had fully realised what had brought the entirety of his fury down upon him, but he reaches a point where it doesn't matter. The devil is dead and that feels as though it could help Enver eventually.
The battle was hard fought and only just won, his companions in almost as much of a bloody mess as he is. His body feels beaten raw in so many different ways, though the single moment of what feels like healing doesn't come from Shadowheart, but instead Enver. Their eyes lock and, for a moment, all he can do is allow the full effect of everything he has discovered tug at his heart.
He wants to say that he remembers enough. Remembers that they have been far more to each other than he had known the last time they had met. So much has happened over the last few days that he doesn't know where to start, and all he can do is convey a look of promise. The promise of so many things.
"Are you alright, Enver?" Why pretend as though that isn't the name that presents itself to the tip of his tongue when he wants to call the man by name.
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The battle was hard fought and only just won, his companions in almost as much of a bloody mess as he is. His body feels beaten raw in so many different ways, though the single moment of what feels like healing doesn't come from Shadowheart, but instead Enver. Their eyes lock and, for a moment, all he can do is allow the full effect of everything he has discovered tug at his heart.
He wants to say that he remembers enough. Remembers that they have been far more to each other than he had known the last time they had met. So much has happened over the last few days that he doesn't know where to start, and all he can do is convey a look of promise. The promise of so many things.
"Are you alright, Enver?" Why pretend as though that isn't the name that presents itself to the tip of his tongue when he wants to call the man by name.