Trepidation bleed from her crème hands to his own, a shade darker, a shade more like the dust and dirt he had been formed from. Ezekiel was a creature of nature, meant to live in the wilds he had roamed. The human name and human things he carried were tools, meaningless objects that he had made meaning out of. This was how he knew he was alive, and how he knew he was free. He was not bound to any singular thing without having made that choice (save the scars, though he supposed these bound him to Cwmfen).
So he smiled sadly, able to feel her pain and her doubt but unsure how to face it. She blamed herself for his choices, a naïve thing that made him wonder just how deep down she had hid in her self-made cave when the monster took her. His poor sister, whom he loved, thought she was nothing but a blight on their house. If anything, the fault lay within her stars.
He squeezed her hand and continued to smile, but his eyes had become like flint. “If you had died, I would never have left Tristan. I would have never come home again. You brought me back, Tali, and you’re the reason I’ll stay. Not for anything else.”
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