I don't know, why don't you show me some of your extreme measures and let's see how far will that take us?

[ goodness. a guy can't even get dragged out into the dark respectfully. the fact that dimitri is moving like he hasn't been injured is impressive, and he wonders just how often he's done that: shrugging off injuries like he entrusts himself to fate that he will wake up the morrow and will be ready to take his slow march of revenge, one step at a time, nothing more powering him than spite and hurt and rage. it'd be a lot more worrying if he didn't keep in mind, dimly, that the man also wants to kill him. he's a prisoner, he's a traitor, he can't be trusted. no-one should trust a gautier, anyway, that's for sure. least of all his friends. least of all his former liege. ]

All this for the chance at revenge, and I'm not even the one you want.

[ garreg mach is cold in ways it hasn't been for a while, and in times like these he wonders what happened to the boy he knew. thought he knew. did he just see what he wanted to see? which one of them was the fool, here? at least dimitri had a reason to stay alive. gautier will live on without him. the north has no need for such traitorous stock. ]