[For a long moment he just looks at their joined hands. Her skin is always paler than his - a rarity for him, he knows - but marked confidently with the darker ink on her fingers. Cal still doesn't know what they mean, if anything aside from the aesthetic, but he certainly likes looking at them. And right now they're a good focal point for when he can feel his mind begin to swim among all the drink he's had.
Merrin's right, of course - she has been increasingly often as of late, if not always - and he knows looking for the good is why he does most of what he does. Sometimes he does it for himself if no one else. The galaxy is dark enough as it is without some speck of light. Even a speck can be enough. One star in a clouded sky.
But these last few months or so have left him grasping at air. Yeah, he's met people who didn't try to kill him immediately, which is always appreciated, and some he'd consider friends, too. But others...it's as if his words just bounced off of them. Dagan grew too obsessed. Rayvis was too loyal to Dagan. And Bode...
Bode was scared.
And Cal couldn't do a single damned thing for any of them. At least he had gotten through to Trilla before the end, even if she never got the chance to try again. But everyone else? No. Nothing.]
I feel like...like I didn't make a difference.
[And he can't do it now when they're all dead. He exhales heavily and picks up the pencil with his off-hand, hunching over to keep the paper still with his elbow as he slowly - and a little sloppily - puts Bode's name down again.]
But I can't carry around corpses all the time. I have to let go, or...or try to. I think Master Tapal would've told me the same. Would've been wiser about it.
[He folds the paper up as best as he can with one hand and, quietly - ]
I think Cere would've, too.
[He can feel tears well up in his eyes so he hastily shoves the heel of his hand agianst them.]
I dunno. Maybe burning a list of names won't do anything, but...
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Merrin's right, of course - she has been increasingly often as of late, if not always - and he knows looking for the good is why he does most of what he does. Sometimes he does it for himself if no one else. The galaxy is dark enough as it is without some speck of light. Even a speck can be enough. One star in a clouded sky.
But these last few months or so have left him grasping at air. Yeah, he's met people who didn't try to kill him immediately, which is always appreciated, and some he'd consider friends, too. But others...it's as if his words just bounced off of them. Dagan grew too obsessed. Rayvis was too loyal to Dagan. And Bode...
Bode was scared.
And Cal couldn't do a single damned thing for any of them. At least he had gotten through to Trilla before the end, even if she never got the chance to try again. But everyone else? No. Nothing.]
I feel like...like I didn't make a difference.
[And he can't do it now when they're all dead. He exhales heavily and picks up the pencil with his off-hand, hunching over to keep the paper still with his elbow as he slowly - and a little sloppily - puts Bode's name down again.]
But I can't carry around corpses all the time. I have to let go, or...or try to. I think Master Tapal would've told me the same. Would've been wiser about it.
[He folds the paper up as best as he can with one hand and, quietly - ]
I think Cere would've, too.
[He can feel tears well up in his eyes so he hastily shoves the heel of his hand agianst them.]
I dunno. Maybe burning a list of names won't do anything, but...
[He looks over at Merrin. He has to try, right?]