“You could go anywhere,” Fenris said, leaning against the doorway; he swallowed the space like a shadow. “You could turn into one of those birds and fly away. Is that not the kind of freedom that being a mage gets you?”
“Maybe,” Jurian sighed. He watched the seagulls soar past the window of his bedroom and out to the sea. Dark skies revealed a storm heralded on their wings. “But it’s not really true. I could fly away, but I’d have to come back. There’s so much keeping me here, so much I have to do.”
Jurian whipped his head around to look at Fenris. “There’s so many people I owe; this life is like a debt I can’t pay off. I could leave. But could my soul come with me when it’s tethered to so many other people? And if it can, how much could I have claimed to love?”
Fenris appeared to consider this question but didn’t answer, not at first. Instead he swirled the bottle of wine in his hand as though it’s murky depths would reveal some hidden truth. “That sort of sentiment keeps you trapped.”
“I know it’s not a chain,” Jurian said; a mess of silk and brocade on the bed, he buried his head and hands between his knees. “But it might as well be. My heart is what damns me. I can’t look away—so what if I’m free? What about everyone else?”
Silence came from the doorway, and then a long sigh. “You cannot save everyone, Jurian.”
“But I can try,” Jurian murmured. “That’s why I stay. I want to save everyone I can. I could save them from what I couldn’t save myself from.”
“You would burn yourself out.”
“I would be free.”
“You will be dead. I would rather not have to carry your corpse to Hawke’s door. Have we not all lost enough?”
Jurian sighed, falling back against the messy sheets of his bed. He stared up at the cloudy night sky through the wisps of fabric that passed for curtains. “I would take you with me. If I left.”
Fenris paused with the bottle of wine half-raised to his lips. “I would ask no such thing of you, Jurian. I fear that I am not capable of changing shape, as you can, to fly away from here.”
“I said flight,” Jurian murmured. “I meant flee.”
“You said yourself that it would not rid you of your obligations.” Fenris sipped at the wine. Jurian had to have been drunker than him for this sort of talk. Fenris found that he wasn’t drunk enough for it, either.
“It wouldn’t. But if you said the word, I’d run. I’ve grown up running. I don’t know anything better.”
“And what if I asked you to stay?”
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