Snippet #2006576

"I'm fine," Sorosillian answered, waving Jacob quickly off. He wasn't, really, lacking sleep, with his world trembling on the verge of blowing up in several directions, but he also knew that if he tried to relax he would only end up worrying. Better to pick up a conversation, distract himself. He leaned towards Jacob and laid one strong hand across the place in his own chest where his scar lay, beneath his shirt. "When Iliam... Blaspheme... stabbed me, we all thought he missed, right? That was why I was alive?" he let a tiny, satisfied smile creep onto his face. Not really a smile... but an expression of relief, nonetheless. "But he didn't miss. He made a non-lethal strike. So I would be sent home and wouldn't have to fight anymore."

It seemed so very simple, and very much typical of his elder brother. Look after Sorosillian first. Get Sorosillian off of the battlefield so he could not get hurt.
Iliam had never much cared about his own well-being.
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Imail flinched slightly at that. He might not survive this mission... he would not much have cared about that, were it not for all of the friends who had collected in this clearing. If only he'd had the strength to murder his father earlier on in the war. He'd have had no friends. He would not have cared whether or not he survived the battle.
Everything was so much harder when he became attached.

Drawing in a deep breath, Imail put his arms around Isabella, pulled her close against his chest.
"You are... so remarkably strong," he told her quietly. "In ways I do not think you understand. Stronger than any of the rest of us." He shook his head slowly, staring off amongst the trees. "Sorrel and I are so different now, Isabella..."
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Louis chewed his lip anxiously.
"You're not going anywhere," he half-commanded, half-pleaded. "You will stay right here. With me. Until we're out of those caves."