He doesn't have the same strike of clarity as Luke. His head is still a fuzzy jumble of memories and bloodshed and betrayal, getting fuzzier still as he shudders and jerks, froth and blood oozing from his mouth.
But he does, at least, recognize this: that despite his fear, and in spite of his own intention to leave here at the cost of a life, Luke has chosen to treat his with care. To attempt and save it, even. His body cramps and spasms in a way he can't control, but at the very least, he works hard to force his stiff and twitching fingers to relinquish their hold on the blade. A thanks, since he can't get his words out, can't even smile.
Here - half in the lap of one of the friends he can call his own, only half-remembered - he takes his last few choking gasps, chasing visions of warm smiles and hands and kinder times.
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He doesn't have the same strike of clarity as Luke. His head is still a fuzzy jumble of memories and bloodshed and betrayal, getting fuzzier still as he shudders and jerks, froth and blood oozing from his mouth.
But he does, at least, recognize this: that despite his fear, and in spite of his own intention to leave here at the cost of a life, Luke has chosen to treat his with care. To attempt and save it, even. His body cramps and spasms in a way he can't control, but at the very least, he works hard to force his stiff and twitching fingers to relinquish their hold on the blade. A thanks, since he can't get his words out, can't even smile.
Here - half in the lap of one of the friends he can call his own, only half-remembered - he takes his last few choking gasps, chasing visions of warm smiles and hands and kinder times.
Dahut is dead. Fourth time's the charm!]