[He abruptly stops. The slap of heat across his face revives him to himself but there's no sudden outbreak of flame, no blaze in his path. It's the sweet embrace of a warmth he knows.]

Yes! You're-

[Cole pauses, gaze catching up to his thoughts.

How can the inside be home and the outside a place he's never been? The image of the Inquisitor is cast forever into his mind, the man before him nowhere near fitting the mold. Blood, always blood, but there's no trace of it now. This wasn't the power she had.]

Wasp buzzing behind the throne. Ragged feathers all plucked. Why do you remember choices you never made? Why do you wear someone else's skin?