The storm whirled inside of Warren's head. He felt that other mind brush against him, probing and searching and finding what he thought was some weaponized thought, some pressure point with which to break the highlander and by extension, Howl.
"The kind of man I really am..." Warren repeated the words to himself. He'd had a drink to that regard what felt like a lifetime ago, but he was dimly aware that his partner nearby was undergoing far worse. Whatever the lizard had shown him had had the desired effect. He would need Warren, and that fire inside of him roared back.
The thing about touching someone like this, worm, is that it works both ways.
The visions the draconic mind had shown him were vivid, but unreal. Warren retaliated with memories, recalling moments that were powerful and real.
This is he and I drinking after the Grindstone. This is us watching each other fight. This is me rushing to his side after he was hurt. This is me cheering him on in the finals. This is us having a quiet meal together. This is me, murdering your thrall to find out where he was. This is Prauvaulient giving you up and pleading for his life. This is Howl, wearing the mantle of his son, having murdered him to come back to me.
Do you think you know the sort of man I am, dragon? Do you know what happened to the last person who stood in our way?
Warren turned to look at Howl, his eyes no longer having to peer through the snow. He was still huddled over the spear, the shaft pointed into the air above him as he leaned on it for support. Warren moved to him, surprised that the quickly piling snow hadn't accumulated nearly as much as he'd thought. Warren pressed a hand to Howl's shoulder and gave him a little shake, but the miqo'te didn't appear to notice.
You think I don't know this is going to hurt him? You think that showing me visions and pictures of her, of him, is something I haven't thought of? I know you don't know anything, worm. You're feeling through him to reach to me, playing on his fears and worries in hopes to get me to think twice. It will not work. You think I'm going to choose her over him and that proves you don't know, not really. You think I'd just let him go away. You don't know the things I've done to keep him by my side.
You will, though. You're going to see exactly the sort of man I am.
He reached into his cloak and removed a small metal flask. Warren used his teeth to uncap the top of it and smiled, his fingers unfeeling through the armor but his heart knowing the words etched there. He tilted his head back and poured fuel on the fire, a taste of things to come to keep him focused.
His other hand moved to Howl's head and he gently pulled the miqo'te towards him again, pressing his lips to just below the man's ear. An act of platonic love, the sort of anchor that helped keep the ship right. Warren extended the flask to Howl, helping to support him as the miqo'te unlatched from the spear and absently accepted what was given to him.
"Drink, Howl. Taste home. We've got casks of it back in Ul'dah, and we're not going to let some overgrown drake stop us now."
The snow had all but abated. Warren looked up and was surprised to see the sun was starting to dip down on the horizon. There wasn't a sign of clouds in the sky, and Warren noticed that neither himself nor Howl were covered in any. He made a show of blowing the snow off of Howl's head and pulled him in again, this time planting a kiss on his forehead.
"Come back to me, Howl. I can't do this without you. I need you, man. Whatever he's showing you, whatever lies he's filling your head with, you know that. We're a team, and nothing is going to change that. No one."
There was a long moment before the light returned to Howl's eyes. Warren smiled and tipped the flask up again, then planted one last smooch on Howl's face.
Looks like the storm blew over, dragon. We're coming for you.
"The kind of man I really am..." Warren repeated the words to himself. He'd had a drink to that regard what felt like a lifetime ago, but he was dimly aware that his partner nearby was undergoing far worse. Whatever the lizard had shown him had had the desired effect. He would need Warren, and that fire inside of him roared back.
The thing about touching someone like this, worm, is that it works both ways.
The visions the draconic mind had shown him were vivid, but unreal. Warren retaliated with memories, recalling moments that were powerful and real.
This is he and I drinking after the Grindstone. This is us watching each other fight. This is me rushing to his side after he was hurt. This is me cheering him on in the finals. This is us having a quiet meal together. This is me, murdering your thrall to find out where he was. This is Prauvaulient giving you up and pleading for his life. This is Howl, wearing the mantle of his son, having murdered him to come back to me.
Do you think you know the sort of man I am, dragon? Do you know what happened to the last person who stood in our way?
Warren turned to look at Howl, his eyes no longer having to peer through the snow. He was still huddled over the spear, the shaft pointed into the air above him as he leaned on it for support. Warren moved to him, surprised that the quickly piling snow hadn't accumulated nearly as much as he'd thought. Warren pressed a hand to Howl's shoulder and gave him a little shake, but the miqo'te didn't appear to notice.
You think I don't know this is going to hurt him? You think that showing me visions and pictures of her, of him, is something I haven't thought of? I know you don't know anything, worm. You're feeling through him to reach to me, playing on his fears and worries in hopes to get me to think twice. It will not work. You think I'm going to choose her over him and that proves you don't know, not really. You think I'd just let him go away. You don't know the things I've done to keep him by my side.
You will, though. You're going to see exactly the sort of man I am.
He reached into his cloak and removed a small metal flask. Warren used his teeth to uncap the top of it and smiled, his fingers unfeeling through the armor but his heart knowing the words etched there. He tilted his head back and poured fuel on the fire, a taste of things to come to keep him focused.
His other hand moved to Howl's head and he gently pulled the miqo'te towards him again, pressing his lips to just below the man's ear. An act of platonic love, the sort of anchor that helped keep the ship right. Warren extended the flask to Howl, helping to support him as the miqo'te unlatched from the spear and absently accepted what was given to him.
"Drink, Howl. Taste home. We've got casks of it back in Ul'dah, and we're not going to let some overgrown drake stop us now."
The snow had all but abated. Warren looked up and was surprised to see the sun was starting to dip down on the horizon. There wasn't a sign of clouds in the sky, and Warren noticed that neither himself nor Howl were covered in any. He made a show of blowing the snow off of Howl's head and pulled him in again, this time planting a kiss on his forehead.
"Come back to me, Howl. I can't do this without you. I need you, man. Whatever he's showing you, whatever lies he's filling your head with, you know that. We're a team, and nothing is going to change that. No one."
There was a long moment before the light returned to Howl's eyes. Warren smiled and tipped the flask up again, then planted one last smooch on Howl's face.
Looks like the storm blew over, dragon. We're coming for you.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
