"T-thank you." The crawling itch at the edges of Dimitri's mind eases. Their voices won't join the chorus of the dead, not yet.

He buries his face in Dedue's shoulder. "If I needed to know. You'd tell me," he says, against the shrieks that he's betraying his people, shirking his duty, that even if there's nothing he can do he must witness. Especially if there's nothing else he can do. "I-if I needed -- sorry. I'm sorry. P-please, I need -- "