[ alfyn holds onto rondo, gripping on like a lifeline and unashamed of it. if anyone will understand, it's someone else that looks at people and feels for them - and he can tell it from the time spent together just as much from the hug itself. but he can't look at him when he says this.

not because he blames rondo, but maybe because he's worried it'll hurt rondo. ]

... I know. I know, I figured, the moment we came back and saw everybody. But then, you were just like Prim. You were undead, and Delilah, she - she was usin' you, too. And your sword, it wasn't the Sacred Flame.

[ a hiccup of noise, wet and unhappy, and he moves one hand - touching the wound, now patched up, the one that is necrotic and unhappy. the one that rondo would recognize to have come from a sword. ]