It was riveting the first time.

He thought he'd get used to it. But the ashes of fire coating your arms, done unto you by some goblin lobbing alchemists fire in a glass bottle—you didnt even scream. Everyones used to this type of death, really.

Even Wyll is. Astarion eyes Wyll oddly when the party resurrected you, Karlach giving you a pat on the back and friendly banter back at Camp. But Wyll cared differently. Even if you didnt know how deep his love ran, if he loved you at all, since to you, he was a party member.

It's still horrifying to see you die in front of him.

This time as blades and spells clash, and your body comes tumbling down after taking what looked like something to save him—Wyll snaps, the rapier Mizora gifted him now held tightly as he charges to your aid.