#he needs a d.t tag. hmmm. i will consider

[heirbane]

"Do you regret your own survival?" / @fatesown

If he had cut her with his words, she was simply returning it in kind. For as critical of her state as he had been, it immediately became a boon: he had no fear of her peering at him, at watching him turn his head and exhale.

Unseeing, yes, but perceptive... or mayhaps his weak points were a blaze in the dark. Both could be true, he thought, golden gaze drifting back in her direction.

She had said more than he had expected - and with candor, nonetheless. The least he could do was return the favor, especially after questioning her in such a manner.

Gaius pulled back his shoulders. The sea breeze was nostalgic, a bittersweet mix of his past and present: cold enough to beckon forth snow, but carrying the same salty air as Terncliff. Mayhaps he could get used to the in-between, he thought. Sharlayan would be yet another temporary home: another restart.

In another life, speaking was a skill he had honed as sharp as his gunblade: to stand on such a pedestal in Garlemald required one to be a decent orator, or a decent pretender. But that had been a lifetime ago, and he no longer had the helm to hide behind, nor the misplaced confidence that ignorance had gifted him.

It was a skill he would have to resharpen. He had not been brought on as an adjunct for his military accolades alone, he knew, and the students - inquisitive, curious-minded youth - would be begging him for answers worse yet.

He reached up, carding his fingers through his hair. The mug of coffee felt barely warm against his other palm even as it steamed.

"Aye," he stated. "I still am mostly whole of body - not that all of it still functions. I am certain, even unbroken as you are, you hear my limp when I approach - and the cane besides. I have very little functionality left in my off-hand." And then, almost a laugh, a bite of air: "A blessing, you may say. It is still attached."

But it did less and less. Grasping objects, feeling textures - it was numb and faraway, much akin to her lack of sight, he assumed. On a good day, it was painless.

The older he became, the fewer good days his body witnessed.

"But to your true question - ... there is no clear answer. Had I perished, my daughter would not be enrolling in these fine facilities, I believe. However - ... survival does not promise living, nor without suffering besides."

His good hand reached down, pulling the coffee mug to his lips. For as much of a reputation the area had for it's chosen cuisine, he had yet to have had a poor drink... or, perhaps, it was simply better than the instant, freeze-dried grounds he had been having for years.

"I regret my fall, aye. I regret falling into the Ascian's grip. Yet - ... you speak true. To have perished in the flames of my own making - ... would have been more regretful."