Standing up beside Morana, Dorian dusted off his robes and picked at one or two twigs that snared themselves on his bandages. Morana wasn't the type to tease people for how they looked - how could she be when she herself had just hugged him? - so he had nothing to be ashamed of. But those twigs - those twigs, when caught in the wrong spots made everything so much more uncomfortable.
He paused for a moment to say a prayer under his breath as soon as Morana stopped talking. When he finished with it, he gazed over at her and smiled warmly. "I'd like that. It wwwould b-be.....my pleasure to accomp-pany you here. When you wish....of c-c-course..."
He wondered if he'd ever get the chance to see his mother's grave again. He'd only been there once, on the evening of her funeral. He didn't even understand then; never got to say goodbye. But he knew she, too, was smiling down on them, and that was enough for him.