[After having been compelled into solace, it's easy to disturb himself, imagining that any desire for rest of quiet could be the being luring him towards it again. It's foolish, of course. He needed sleep even before his corruption at its hands. Yet, the thought keeps occurring to him regardless.

Could he really trust himself? Were there more insidious effects that he was not yet aware of? Would he even realize what was gone?

It had already taken things from him, things that he struggled to fully form an image of except by the shape of their absence. It didn't want him to remember things that would hurt him, this he knows, and so he tortures himself by keeping those pains at the surface, for fear of losing them and never knowing the difference. The people he loved and missed... the only thing crueler than losing them in the first place was forgetting he'd ever had them.

His gaze turns to her much less subtly as she asserts her ability to wake him, were he to be lost again. His silvery gaze lingers, taking in the sight of her, as if endeavoring to make an imprint that will be harder to forget. There's gratefulness in his eyes because, somehow, he finds himself believing her claims.]

...Perhaps I should rest, then, while the option remains. [While she is still there, before being awake any longer would be unduly difficult.] I would trust myself to your vigil. Were I to become lost, I know I would recognize your call.

[He still remembers what it had felt like, to feel that connection cut through the smothering embrace of the entity.]