Lying in state, it was difficult to tell, at first look, that Shinnikan was not breathing. He had been lovingly tended to, cleaned up and... and... preserved. Tears threatened again, and K'ell found himself moving before he'd even had the thought. He was at Shinnikan's side in an instant. Shinnikan's hand, when K'ell touched it, was painfully cold. A stark reminder that K'ell would never hold that hand again and feel its grip. Tears welled up, spilling down his cheeks at last.
"... Oh Shinn," K'ell choked, holding that dear, dead hand against his face. Shinnikan had... had used to cup his cheek like this. He dropped the hand without thinking and it flopped limply to Shinnikan's side, and then K'ell wished with all of his heart that he could keen as a dragon would. "Shinn!" It... it wasn't fair. Oh Faranth, why Shinnikan?
Brokenly, he stared down at the figure of his lover, no longer so full of verve and promise. His hand reached out to stroke his hair tenderly, ever so tenderly. "It should have been me. You were so good, Shinn. You were the good one, between us. I was the Bitran brat. I was the card cheat. It should have been me." But it wasn't. It hadn't been. And never, ever again could he watch Shinnikan's eyes light up with laughter.
He couldn't breathe. The sobs ripped through his body, tearing it apart. The way his heart lay in shards on the sands where Shinnikan had breathed his last breath. Oh Faranth... he'd thought they could grow old together. Or maybe die together after Threadfall, or... shaff. Shaff, it was all gone! "You deserved better than me. Than this. I should have said... goodbye. I wish I had said that I loved you. I wish that I had told you one last... time."
For Shinnikan had been his new dream. A life without him...
Is a life with me, Eskharath said, taking his rider's hand in his teeth. Gently, with all of the love in his hearts, the sleepy baby slipped between K'ell and Shinnikan, giving him something to hold onto while he sobbed. Although the dragonet had not keened when his sister had vanished, he keened now. Not for himself, but for his rider, who could not give voice to the pain. For K'ell, who was the only one to ever hold his hearts.
They sat there together, K'ell crouched over Eskharath and weeping brokenly into his soft hide. Eskharath, who did not truly understand, simply held a space for K'ell. And slowly, ever so slowly, that ice began to thaw. There was, at least, a place where K'ell could go, where they could be together. A place that was all their own. A place... beyond between. One day. One day, they'd all be together again, and though that thought didn't soothe him, it took shape.
Oh Shinnikan... you were mine.
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