Neverwinter Forest there was a thousand storms in his eyes

“Rannoch,” Cypress whispered hoarsely, dragging in huge gulps of air that left him lightheaded and reeling. “I thought he was dead — I thought I was dreaming — ” the raven stammered out, infinitely grateful for the berserker’s solid, stalwart presence. He latched onto his brother’s reassuring nearness with fierce desperation, tortured yellow eyes grasping in a stricken, glassy way for Caribbean blue. “I thought I was dreaming so I tried to kill him — because he was supposed to be dead — but it was really Rannoch.” The logic was faulty and disjointed, but Cypress could hardly be blamed for it. He tacked on hastily, “I’m not hurt,” despite the blood that wept freely from the corner of his mouth, and pushed through to what he felt was really important: “I told Rannoch about Mama and Paw and he said he had to get out of the valley — and I thought he — and then he said to tell everyone he was dead — but I — and he said I could come with him, and I wanted to — it hurts to be here, it hurts to be anywhere — but I told him, I said, ‘Please don’t go away, Noch,’ — but — he just — and — ”

Feeling utterly defeated and empty, his eyes and stomach having expelled all they were capable of, Cypress huddled miserably on the ground at Kjalarr’s feet. “I told him he was a coward and I told him that I would die, too — and that it would be his fault,” he whispered brokenly. “Why’d I say that?” Wild yellow eyes panned upward, past Kjalarr’s face, toward the stars and the moon. It was the first time Cypress felt like the elements themselves were condemning him for his actions, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tucked his tail firmly up against his abdomen. For now, the storm had quieted, leaving only despondency in its wake. “What’ll I tell Allure?” mumbled the boy. “I can’t lie to her, but Rannoch — he asked me to keep his secret. We always kept each other’s secrets. Kjalarr, what do I do?”