[Not pulled into a tender embrace- literal or figurative, but not turned away. That, more than anything, is enough for Zevran. He had done something foolish for one who had his begrudging loyalty that was now less than begrudging. Isaac was as he was and Zevran knew they got along best when there was no attempt to change or discuss it. What need had they for words? Their lives had been twisted, bloody, violent, and full of despair. They could discuss it, rage at the past- or continue forward despite it.

Zev is, as he ever was, in favor of moving forward. Silently, yes, but forward none the less.

Aside from shifting a little from where he sat and the odd flick of his wings for balance, Zevran remains still. Silent. Staring out at the world in contemplation of what he'd survived before murmuring.]

I had not thought myself a man of great faith. I've lived and worked with death for as long as I can remember- the thought of passing should not bother me. And indeed, it does not. But...I suppose I expected to at least Wake in the Fade for the time between then and now.

There was nothing.

And I do not know if I should be surprised or resigned to that.

...how is it that you have made your way, when the faith ascribed to you has failed so horribly?