There was something in her voice that made him want to ask what she meant, what she was talking about, at the same time it warned him not to ask. Eragos didn't want to think that he'd done something to upset her. Even if he knew that he had. They were alike in more ways than he cared to take notice of, no matter how different he thought they were. Neither of them knew when to stop, when to give up the fight and let themselves die. If he knew how to do that he would have done it a thousand times before this day. He would have surrendered his life on a frozen field in Kenyon and never thought twice about it the rest of eternity. Eragos had no idea where those condemned by Bahamut burned. He just knew that they did burn, whether they wanted to or not. It was the sort of thought that usually came to him in his darkest moments, when there was little enough hope left, but today it came while he stared at her back. She didn't want him to die. Eragos couldn't fathom why it mattered to him, hearing her say that, but it did. Matter.
He wanted to cross the room then and demand to know what she meant, but she wouldn't tell him. That note in her voice. It was there, omnipresent, whenever she spoke of him as though he was going to die. Sometimes it pained him to think that she was so concerned for his well-being. The rest of the time he wished she would show it in any way other than the way she'd chosen. When he'd caught sight of her for the first time in over two years, Eragos had been consumed by thinking of her. Worrying for her well-being. It was the same thought process that consumed her now, even if she wished it wouldn't. Someday this dance of theirs was going to end. Each of them pretending that self-control meant more than saying what you felt. Eragos didn't know any other way to do this. Any other way to exist. It was a story that had played out countless times in his life. If not quite like this. He had only the mission in front of him. Only the task that was left to complete. When he crossed the room he did so at a slow and even pace. Wondering what to say to her, what could possibly make her forget as he'd forgotten.
No.
Not forgotten.
Just buried somewhere, somewhere that wouldn't prove too much of a distraction while he tried simply to survive.
"If you hold a grudge against me for doing my duty," Eragos said - standing only inches away, staring over her head and out the same window. "Then I suppose forgiving me isn't your biggest problem, is it?"
She could be as foolish and as petulant as a child. So could he. The weakness in his limbs reminded him of that. The strain that passed through them just from crossing the room was nearly unbearable. He couldn't collapse now, even if it cost him his life. If he collapsed he'd never find his feet again. They would pack him into a wagon like an invalid and ship him to the capitol with a blanket over his face to keep out the sun. Eragos very nearly touched her shoulder. If not for the hesitation he felt at doing so, if not for the hesitation he felt at surrendering his focus even for a moment, he would have. The dragon knight's hand came up, and fell away, on the verge.
The Lady Vera butchered his concentration, every time she turned away from him. Every time she turned toward him. Every time she drew a breath. He should have told her that he would fight for her and only her until the end, but she would only scold him for refusing to his duty after chiding her for not doing hers.
"I accepted the risk when I came here. It's the reason that I came here."