[It's likely unsurprising that it takes a moment for what Solas says to sink in. The smaller elf staring at him, expression shifting in small ways that betrayed the rapid internal thought process, accompanied by the slight pull of pointed ears downward. A subtle tell, but noticeable all the same.]
He... might not have. Like you said- [But even as he said it, in that rasped uncertain tone, it sounded wrong on his tongue in an uncomfortably familiar way. The bitter taste of denial, for all he hadn't realized it before.] He might not have-
[He shook his head, though it was hard to say if he was denying the idea, or dispelling the chance of it not happening. Even Kion wasn't sure in the moment, hands pressed against the sides of his thighs to stop them shaking.]
If... who-[A rattling sort of breath interrupting the thought.] who was I talking to then?
The mind is flexible; a hallucination, an invention of the imagination to justify the mandate that Varric's death be disguised. You were speaking only to yourself, and hearing whatever seemed most rational to you in the moment.
You will not remember anyone else acknowledging Varric's survival, of course. Nor would he have spoken to any of the others; the illusion is restricted only to you.
[It was a fragile illusion, of course. If someone had pointed it out directly, that Varric was dead, if they had argued it rather than simply accepting Rook's behavior as a product of grief and stress and the peculiarities of the individual... Well. That might have made a different end to the story.]
But he- [But he hadn't, Kion was realizing, with a slowly dawning horror. Even whenever another had been in the room, they'd never interacted with Varric that he could recall. Anything that even sounded like it might have been an exchange had been... commentary that didn't require response.
It made Beleth's comments when they'd had their fight before the chaos with Triton make... an unpleasant amount of sense.
No wonder he hadn't felt any comfort when he'd sent off his lanterns. He'd been missing one.
The ground almost seemed to be sliding under his feet, and he lifted a hand to rake over his hair, gaze dropping as he struggled with the truth that Solas was offering, quavering fingers tensing against braids.]
I- I think I'm going to be sick.
[Barely hearing Solas's apology through the pulse pounding through his ears, his own vague sort of tone muted like he was hearing it from under water's surface.
It took a long moment before he moved farther, seeming to almost start into motion not unlike a startled halla, a clumsy step back, rather than closer like what Solas might have expected. Another step, still unsteady but seeming to shake from the freeze of the seconds before, wide eyes skittering briefly up to meet Solas' as he let out a shaky exhale of breath.] I-
We... Later- [Whatever he wanted to say wouldn't come, and he shook his head, turning on his heel to all but flee Solas' home. Where he intended to go? It was hard to say if even he knew in the moment. Somewhere else was the only idea he'd managed to latch onto amidst the internal tumult.]
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He... might not have. Like you said- [But even as he said it, in that rasped uncertain tone, it sounded wrong on his tongue in an uncomfortably familiar way. The bitter taste of denial, for all he hadn't realized it before.] He might not have-
[He shook his head, though it was hard to say if he was denying the idea, or dispelling the chance of it not happening. Even Kion wasn't sure in the moment, hands pressed against the sides of his thighs to stop them shaking.]
If... who-[A rattling sort of breath interrupting the thought.] who was I talking to then?
no subject
You will not remember anyone else acknowledging Varric's survival, of course. Nor would he have spoken to any of the others; the illusion is restricted only to you.
[It was a fragile illusion, of course. If someone had pointed it out directly, that Varric was dead, if they had argued it rather than simply accepting Rook's behavior as a product of grief and stress and the peculiarities of the individual... Well. That might have made a different end to the story.]
Ir abelas, Kion. I am sorry.
no subject
It made Beleth's comments when they'd had their fight before the chaos with Triton make... an unpleasant amount of sense.
No wonder he hadn't felt any comfort when he'd sent off his lanterns. He'd been missing one.
The ground almost seemed to be sliding under his feet, and he lifted a hand to rake over his hair, gaze dropping as he struggled with the truth that Solas was offering, quavering fingers tensing against braids.]
I- I think I'm going to be sick.
[Barely hearing Solas's apology through the pulse pounding through his ears, his own vague sort of tone muted like he was hearing it from under water's surface.
It took a long moment before he moved farther, seeming to almost start into motion not unlike a startled halla, a clumsy step back, rather than closer like what Solas might have expected. Another step, still unsteady but seeming to shake from the freeze of the seconds before, wide eyes skittering briefly up to meet Solas' as he let out a shaky exhale of breath.] I-
We... Later- [Whatever he wanted to say wouldn't come, and he shook his head, turning on his heel to all but flee Solas' home. Where he intended to go? It was hard to say if even he knew in the moment. Somewhere else was the only idea he'd managed to latch onto amidst the internal tumult.]