[Orym lingers above him, reaching down to brush back his hair from his face, fingers caressing softly over sweat-damp skin. The halfling smiles back, looking down in clear adoration at him.
There's a pulse of that reassurance and warmth and love through the magic that he'd wrapped Dorian in earlier, a gentle snare, but a snare nevertheless. He won't let Dorian escape it, will do whatever he can to keep the bard by his side, where he can protect him.]
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There's a pulse of that reassurance and warmth and love through the magic that he'd wrapped Dorian in earlier, a gentle snare, but a snare nevertheless. He won't let Dorian escape it, will do whatever he can to keep the bard by his side, where he can protect him.]
My beautiful Dorian... feel all right?