Enver knows enough of what he is seeing, what it is to be on one's last legs -- and given the Dark Urge stopped the world from ending and walked away to tell of it, he has plenty of reasons to. So even as he sees that smile -- genuine and happy in a way that feels rare and special, a look he'd catch in quiet, private moments, just before duty called them back in -- his feet are moving of their own accord.
This isn't like those remembered instances, because it's more, and there are no more duties, plagued instead with a strange blessed silence in his mind and bones that threatens to leave cold in that emptiness. And in that place, all the once-human can see is the Dark Urge. Who came back from death and pulled him from the brink of it and worse.
His hands found his face, tracing the line of his jaw as he drew a little energy. It's not powerful magic -- the sort of thing artificers learn to do in their early tutelage. Enough to cover a dire mistake. It'll get you away from that thresh hold just enough to get to a healer that can draw you the rest of the way.
Nothing like the second wind the boons of the Black Hand could have once given him. But with no potions it's just enough. It's all he can do.
It's also something he would never have been permitted to do before.
"You're here," he gasps, the thought somehow hitting him now in a way he hadn't fully allowed it to until this very moment. Because he had been gone or so very close to being so again.
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This isn't like those remembered instances, because it's more, and there are no more duties, plagued instead with a strange blessed silence in his mind and bones that threatens to leave cold in that emptiness. And in that place, all the once-human can see is the Dark Urge. Who came back from death and pulled him from the brink of it and worse.
His hands found his face, tracing the line of his jaw as he drew a little energy. It's not powerful magic -- the sort of thing artificers learn to do in their early tutelage. Enough to cover a dire mistake. It'll get you away from that thresh hold just enough to get to a healer that can draw you the rest of the way.
Nothing like the second wind the boons of the Black Hand could have once given him. But with no potions it's just enough. It's all he can do.
It's also something he would never have been permitted to do before.
"You're here," he gasps, the thought somehow hitting him now in a way he hadn't fully allowed it to until this very moment. Because he had been gone or so very close to being so again.