Genn was indeed listening, even staring at the panting Archmage, flushed from that passionate rant. Part of his mind wondered if he would look like that after a romp in the sheets, but another part forced that train of thought away, telling himself he shouldn't even be musing on something that would never happen, especially now.
He kept his silence, as there was truly nothing he could say that wouldn't dig him deeper in his current hole. He had no defenses that Khadgar wouldn't simply shred to pieces and no doubt decide it was best to remove him now while he was incapable of protesting such an action than to wait until he 'crossed the line' once again in Khadgar's opinion.
Instead he merely sighed softly and let his eyes close to block the other man from view, to seek sleep once more if he was to be allowed to do so.
A goblet clanking across a stone floor; Gilnean banners hanging proudly from a wall; his now-dead son, Liam, bleeding from his mouth and cradled in Genn's arms.
Gilneas city burned; Wine spilling on a stone floor, like blood; his own blood on his hands, skin throbbing and stinging; a group of Sentinels lying in a pool of gore at Keel Harbor in Gilneas.
The cool salty wash of ocean; the thumping, dull pain of head to wood and his body sliding backward before the drop. Time stood still; the two ships colliding into each other, wooden boards flying like splinters from a sawed tree.
His chest burned with the need for air, ached with the weight of the water pushing and pulling him down, refusing to let him reach the surface.
Stretching over the wooden railing, screaming Varian's name; Blightcaller's condemnation; Khadgar's blue gaze boring into him in judgement before the eyes closed; the mage abruptly shifting into a more avian form to leave him behind.
He woke then, a quiet noise of pained distress escaping him, more due to the unwanted dreams flowing like snapshot reminders of his failures and downfalls than any physical pain. The last simply reminded him that no matter if fate had deemed them soulmates, that had been prior to his actions landing him cursed. Who in their right mind would want to share their lives with someone like him? He was temperamental, monstrous even without taking into consideration of his cursed form.
Especially given the fact he'd been so utterly narrow minded and short sighted. It was no wonder really why the subject hadn't been brought up by the mage. Why should he want to acknowledge that his soul mate was a cankerous monster that was twice his age?
The only value he held for the mage was no doubt in his knowledge and ability to aid him in this time of war. Though he wondered silently if things wouldn't have been better for everyone if he had sought to haul Varian up into the ship and had launched himself off of it instead to take out the Reaver that kept it pinned.
no subject
He kept his silence, as there was truly nothing he could say that wouldn't dig him deeper in his current hole. He had no defenses that Khadgar wouldn't simply shred to pieces and no doubt decide it was best to remove him now while he was incapable of protesting such an action than to wait until he 'crossed the line' once again in Khadgar's opinion.
Instead he merely sighed softly and let his eyes close to block the other man from view, to seek sleep once more if he was to be allowed to do so.
A goblet clanking across a stone floor; Gilnean banners hanging proudly from a wall; his now-dead son, Liam, bleeding from his mouth and cradled in Genn's arms.
Gilneas city burned; Wine spilling on a stone floor, like blood; his own blood on his hands, skin throbbing and stinging; a group of Sentinels lying in a pool of gore at Keel Harbor in Gilneas.
The cool salty wash of ocean; the thumping, dull pain of head to wood and his body sliding backward before the drop. Time stood still; the two ships colliding into each other, wooden boards flying like splinters from a sawed tree.
His chest burned with the need for air, ached with the weight of the water pushing and pulling him down, refusing to let him reach the surface.
Stretching over the wooden railing, screaming Varian's name; Blightcaller's condemnation; Khadgar's blue gaze boring into him in judgement before the eyes closed; the mage abruptly shifting into a more avian form to leave him behind.
He woke then, a quiet noise of pained distress escaping him, more due to the unwanted dreams flowing like snapshot reminders of his failures and downfalls than any physical pain. The last simply reminded him that no matter if fate had deemed them soulmates, that had been prior to his actions landing him cursed. Who in their right mind would want to share their lives with someone like him? He was temperamental, monstrous even without taking into consideration of his cursed form.
Especially given the fact he'd been so utterly narrow minded and short sighted. It was no wonder really why the subject hadn't been brought up by the mage. Why should he want to acknowledge that his soul mate was a cankerous monster that was twice his age?
The only value he held for the mage was no doubt in his knowledge and ability to aid him in this time of war. Though he wondered silently if things wouldn't have been better for everyone if he had sought to haul Varian up into the ship and had launched himself off of it instead to take out the Reaver that kept it pinned.