[ This touching of minds (souls?) isn't the same as seeing her in person, but it's almost as good as far as he's concerned. His memories are indistinct in some ways. Hazy, like a dream, but he remembers some parts sharply and the shape of her feels right. The touch of her mind, the way she endures him, the way she's determined not to let him earn a victory. How she wants to take on so much with her weakened body and accept the pain of those around her.

Or their corruption, really.

He remembers that. And the familiarity is like a drug. Like living all over again. ]

You could've lived without it?

[ He laughs - or she feels the laugh, cruel and disbelieving. ]

You're too fucking good for yourself, you know that? [ He should worry about his own power, such as it is, but his thoughts are bent toward her, reaching out to wrap her up and cradle her close and subsume her. ]

You had a chance at being free and you threw it all away? [ He says, like he didn't do the exact same thing - or at least something similar. ]