[ ah. there it is. if he weren't bleeding sluggishly from more than one orifice right now, eseld may find himself chuckling behind a sleeve. as it were, he winces a little at being jostled, but does not intend on giving the paladin the satisfaction of having him complain.

it's like playing a game. moving a pawn to a square that will always evoke the knight to come charging in on it. if ouyang is the mutable bird and fable is the fickle cat, then torth is the faithful hound, salivating at the ring of the predestined bell. that would make himself, he thinks, the snake that sleeps at their bosom.

torth is correct, but not in the way he thinks. eseld isn't going to live because he has the willpower to do so. eseld is going to live because if eseld dies, then so does juno, and eseld would gladly sacrifice the other three of them to whatever eldritch supernatural entity that fable's made a pact with this time to ensure that if necessary. the look he casts over torth's shoulder is entirely droll, even if he knows that torth can't quite see him. in any case, if torth could, he might actually kick the man. look forward, you fool. his comfort depends on it. ]

Of course I will. It's you who seems to think that I'm about to wilt like a lily petal.

[ his voice drops low, in an amused mimicry of the tremor of worry in torth's earlier tone: ]

'I can't believe I'm saying this, but... keep speaking. Don't stop if you can help it.' Care to remind me who said that to me?