[ it's an admission. there is no worthwhile or acceptable measure of an admission. the mere act of it has meaning. kaveh has never had the time; the kaveh of three days ago would never have admitted this. alhaitham allows his head to cant in acquiescence. the salad disappears in fork-fulls as alhaitham fills the brimming void within him, replete with exhaustion and a terrible, low-burning fury. but that's the thing - fury would not help him. not as he is not. not as the situation needs to unfold. for a moment, alhaitham looks; then, in another, alhaitham decides that it is not worthwhile to feel it, and simply doesn't.

alhaitham's fork abates. his shoulders relax as he considers the premise. ]

He would question the veracity of your letter. [ there are those who claim that alhaitham is made of the long-forgotten pieces of dahrian machinery, all spark plugs and wiring and coded logic bases in neat, binary form. but to understand yourself, you must first understand others. alhaitham thinks to the rumours of tighnari's temper, and walks through the well-worn logic corridors of his own mind. ] News of your capture is already well-known. The Avidyans have put in quiet inquiries regarding the status of your health; I allowed enough of the information to slip through the net's gaps so that they are aware you are alive, but no more. To receive a letter from you alone would regardless push at the boundaries of believability. No conventional prisoner would be allowed to do so; Tighnari of the Avidya is intelligent enough to assume that you may be writing it under duress.

[ but alhaitham looks kaveh. the green of his gaze rests, thoughtful. ] I will make him a deal. So long as he prepares the suppressants, I will allow him to tend to you personally so that he may ascertain your wellness.