Emet-Selch can well admit that he has oft been reticent to share his deeper, innermost thoughts with anyone, be it friend or otherwise. It takes to the end of his emotional strength to even begin to consider it, but here, in this moment, vulnerable and influenced by the weight of the void, he feels somehow more able to put to voice the weight of his own heart.
The weight of Hythlodaeus' words feel close enough to have him shedding tears. It has been so long, and he has been alone for so long, that the notion of drawing himself out and allowing such warmth and joy to smother him makes him anxious, almost afraid.
How can he be permitted to have something - anything - like this?
The words are soft, and he lifts his head to embrace them.
"Oh, my dear friend," he leans close, to touch their foreheads, to close his eyes, to cling to this moment for as long as eternity might allow them to have. "Please, do not ever leave me again. Do not move from my side, do not... Do not leave me alone. My heart could not stand it."
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The weight of Hythlodaeus' words feel close enough to have him shedding tears. It has been so long, and he has been alone for so long, that the notion of drawing himself out and allowing such warmth and joy to smother him makes him anxious, almost afraid.
How can he be permitted to have something - anything - like this?
The words are soft, and he lifts his head to embrace them.
"Oh, my dear friend," he leans close, to touch their foreheads, to close his eyes, to cling to this moment for as long as eternity might allow them to have. "Please, do not ever leave me again. Do not move from my side, do not... Do not leave me alone. My heart could not stand it."