"At least we aren't going mad from pain," Daud points out. That has to count for something, doesn't it? His brow furrows slightly, voice going dry.

"But dead dragons can't give their consent either. We know that making a dragonborn requires consent from both; the lack of it creates a scaleskin." He pauses, lingering over the thought. But what if neither of them could give consent? If they were both just functionally objects bound together? He doesn't like the thought of that.

In any case, the dragonet isn't an effective distraction from dark thoughts, but it's one he'll let himself take for once, watching them both silently.