Though Carlisle himself is nearly as colorless as the landscape -- save for his eyes, which still hold just a hint of their usual blue -- Glacius is vibrant, his will shining beacon in this barren, dying world. His voice draws the attention of the clergyman, who is then immediately taken aback by his vivid appearance. He seems to recognize Glacius immediately, a smile crossing him; it dissipates only a second later as he puts a hand on his head, his eyes unfocusing, his mind struggling to recall why he was so happy just now to see him. Because he's someone in this world of no one? He knows him, doesn't he? But where? Is he someone he wronged once? He must be.

No no no no no, Carlisle says inwardly, almost muttering it aloud. This figure says he wants to help. He must be good, surely. But there is no goodness in this place, is there? No, no there isn't. Carlisle knows he belongs here because of that.

But does this stranger before him?

He slowly slides to his feet, his eyes flicking back to the icy warrior. "I- I feel as though I do. I do know you, don't I? We- Glacius. Like ice. Aheh, it makes sense! And we were- we..."

He trails off, his expression faltering as it slips from him. "We... we were... I know this was important. We know each other, I- I wronged you in some way, didn't I?" His fingers curl against his scalp, fear gripping him. "I must have, or you wouldn't be here. To- to torture me? No, that's- that's not right."