The dream seems both far away and immediate, but he already feels calmer now that Daine's here and he can see that she's okay.
"You died," he half croaks, half whispers. "I'm sorry. I couldn't - you just disappeared. You died. I'm sorry."
He isn't entirely sure what he's apologizing for: for dreaming about the arena, for pulling her into the dream, for what she went through there, for her dying, for not being able to save her, for how he's reacting now that they're both awake and alive and fine. All of it, he supposes, however little any of it was actually his fault.
His shoulders ache as if he really has been digging, and his fingertips burn. He holds on to both pains, using them to ground himself in the waking world and push away the final tendrils of the nightmare.
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"You died," he half croaks, half whispers. "I'm sorry. I couldn't - you just disappeared. You died. I'm sorry."
He isn't entirely sure what he's apologizing for: for dreaming about the arena, for pulling her into the dream, for what she went through there, for her dying, for not being able to save her, for how he's reacting now that they're both awake and alive and fine. All of it, he supposes, however little any of it was actually his fault.
His shoulders ache as if he really has been digging, and his fingertips burn. He holds on to both pains, using them to ground himself in the waking world and push away the final tendrils of the nightmare.