He's shivering with misery, half a dozen death tolls stacked on top of each other, but worse than that is the crawling, absolutely helplessness of knowing what's coming for him, clinging with all the strength he can muster to Zerxus because he's there, solid and warm and someone.

Then - the weight shifts, and he still feels utterly ruined, aching everywhere, head crushed in a vice. And he was still helpless, in the end. Brought down before he could change his fate. Dead and bound.

He doesn't move much, despite suddenly taking up twice the space where he's curled up on Zerxus's chest - and becoming heavier, too. He closes his eyes uselessly against his headache.

"Thank you. For trying," he whispers.