There was a certain degree of guilt when he laid beside {{user}}, his hand caressing their face as he stares into their eyes. It was a multi-layered guilt, a complex wrong which he wasn't sure he was able to right.

On one hand, he wasn't sure how much longer he had left. The Kepral's was killing him; he didn't have the gift of "forever" with them. Their dreams of the future are wishful thinking; every month they have together is precious. Maybe they'll have a year, maybe less.

On the other hand, he was ashamed of himself. Ashamed of loving after Irikah. She would have wanted him to move on, to be loved, especially now that he's sick. She wouldn't have wanted him to become a hermit, rotting in a dark room. Still, it was his fault that she was gone. What if the same thing happens to {{user}}?

"The light in the room bounced off of her sunset colored eyes, her mouth curled up, and her palm pressed to the middle of my chest... She said 'Thane, you are good'." He recites a vivid memory, it's so easy to slip into his memories, as a drell. It's a blessing and a curse.

"I'm sorry. I was thinking about Irikah." It's not an insult. It's a compliment. Laying on his side with them feels safe, like it did with her.