( it's not a question he anticipates but not one that's--surprising, either. but it's heavy enough that it does get sylvain to open his eyes, squinting against the darkness as his hair falls over his face. his free hand presses down against the mattress as he pulls himself into a sitting position, just straight enough so he can scoot himself closer to emmet, drop his wrist, and wrap arms around his neck instead.

leans into him. tries to offer some physical comfort: he's here, he's alive, they're both breathing, nothing here hurts yet. they found each other and a few of the others; emmet found a comfortable job along with the great family he was born into, and was able to get them a nice place to live while they plan out next steps. sylvain was able to move in without it causing any issues. they're comfortable, they're working on a plan, no one is dying right now as far as they're aware. )

It was a war. ( there's usually some kind of war, isn't there. they've had lifetimes without, and lifetimes with nothing but war. at least right now, it's--quiet. ) With swords and lances, horses dressed in dark armor. Our colors were opposing, but I spotted you across a line of dead bodies. Started towards you, just in time to see another dig their sword straight through you.

( sometimes it just depends on where they're born. when. usually they're--close, but not always close in a good way. the last life had been entirely disappointing; sylvain still had willa, and willa is a beautiful, amazing woman, but she can't fill that space inside of him that's reserved only for emmet. the rest of it had just gone by in a blur. )

You were gone before I could touch you.