Our sojourn in the underground lair of the beholder seems to have worn on Aerie considerably. :( Stopped on the Promenade to sell stuff and sleep, and she broke down in tears as Caden bought their room...
Caden is feeling a little exhausted himself, to be honest, beaten up and overwhelmed by the immense number of tasks that will be required to gain the money needed to even begin to pursue Imoen. But somehow, seeing Aerie's fear and exhaustion, he finds the will to stand stronger, to be a rock she can lean against, to try to inspire her. They are back in the light and sun again; they are still alive and breathing. There's hope.
And he does not believe she's useless. Tired perhaps, afraid and unused to this sort of travel...but not useless; quite the opposite. Her conversation, her presence has been a bright point in the travail of the last few weeks...and her beauty subject to more than one daydream to while away the hours. He does not want her to go. And gods...gods...he does not want her to die.
His tone is soft, encouraging. He hopes she'll hear it as inspiration, as a push towards the brighter side of the situation, but if anything her expression seems to grow more hopeless yet.
He swallows, shakes his head, turns to face her and takes both her hands in his. It's a natural, instinctive movement; for a moment he forgets all about the crowded inn around them, and the eyes of his companions on him -- Jaheira's slight smile, Rasaad's preoccupied stare, Minsc's somewhat disjointed amusement, and even Keldorn, paternal in a vague and all-too-familiar way. None of this matters at present. He only wants to ease that pain in Aerie's voice.
Her voice cracks, tears brim in her eyes. He lifts a hand, cups her cheek, brushes his thumb along the track of one tear. And he shakes his head, calmly, quietly, a little sadly.
He knows, even as he speaks, that it's not only her that he's trying to encourage, but himself as well. How easy it would have been, so many times along this journey, to simply stop, to let the evil -- from outside him and within his own demon-born nature -- boil over and destroy him. How easy it would have been to give in...but they can't give in. Not against the forces they face. He has to fight. And he wants her fighting with him.
She stares at him, her lower lip trembling, her breathing unsteady. Slowly, slowly, the tension in her shoulders eases, and she looks down at his hand gripping hers.
