[ she speaks to him gently -- with longing. with remorse. he swallows down a wail. gnashes his teeth hard enough to stress his jaw. the fingers wound around the hilt of his blade quake violently, and before he realizes it, Durandal has fallen and clattered against the floor. it echoes throughout the hollow of this cavern, of this wretched nest. ]

Why are you saying my name like that... [ his hands brace against his head, cradling it desperately. ] No, I killed you... I lied to you... spat the cruelest words imaginable at you like venom... I wanted you to kill me... but you smiled instead. Even now...

[ one of his hands maneuvers towards the mask; his fingers stop shy of one of its ridges. they're still shaking, as if he were a child. ]

I don't know how to take it off anymore. [ a minute stretches out between them as if it were an eternity. roland slumps forward, inclining his head towards her. ] ...

[ he gives her an option -- offers her a neck to crush beneath her fingertips or a face to unveil. a pathetic, filthy, ragged face, but the face of her former servant no less. ]