Carlisle's brow knits, his lopsided smile fading. His gaze lands on the ground, focusing on each step as he tries to assuage his partner's concerns.
"This place, awful as it may be at times, is a vast improvement, Glacius," he reassures. "Were I not here, I likely would be dead, whether in Bear Den or in the jungle, and all unfortunate to suffer my presence would find themselves damned by a Revenant. Were I not here, I would have no reason to keep living, knowing there are others whose concern for my well-being, as misplaced as I may find it at times, does exist."
He picks up his pace, trying to get in front of Glacius to meet his eyes. He manages to get beside him before he stumbles, catching himself despite the heavy pack on his back. It doesn't stop his earnest confession, his words a far cry from the despair that so ensnared him as his soul dwindled away to nothing. The Siphoning restored not just his body, but his mind as well, and with such an immediate, immeasurable burden lifted from his shoulders, he finds his very attitude freer than it has been in some time.
"Were I not here, Glacius, I would not have you, and you would not have me. I know not what this plane would hold for you, but I would be alone... utterly, dreadfully alone. That is far more intolerable than a prison-city if you ask me."
And if there is one thing that is apparent -- from the lonely vision of his past self in his dreams to the man his solitude shaped him to be, and how it affects him even to this day -- it is that loneliness is a wound that crippled Carlisle far worse than his affliction ever did.
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"This place, awful as it may be at times, is a vast improvement, Glacius," he reassures. "Were I not here, I likely would be dead, whether in Bear Den or in the jungle, and all unfortunate to suffer my presence would find themselves damned by a Revenant. Were I not here, I would have no reason to keep living, knowing there are others whose concern for my well-being, as misplaced as I may find it at times, does exist."
He picks up his pace, trying to get in front of Glacius to meet his eyes. He manages to get beside him before he stumbles, catching himself despite the heavy pack on his back. It doesn't stop his earnest confession, his words a far cry from the despair that so ensnared him as his soul dwindled away to nothing. The Siphoning restored not just his body, but his mind as well, and with such an immediate, immeasurable burden lifted from his shoulders, he finds his very attitude freer than it has been in some time.
"Were I not here, Glacius, I would not have you, and you would not have me. I know not what this plane would hold for you, but I would be alone... utterly, dreadfully alone. That is far more intolerable than a prison-city if you ask me."
And if there is one thing that is apparent -- from the lonely vision of his past self in his dreams to the man his solitude shaped him to be, and how it affects him even to this day -- it is that loneliness is a wound that crippled Carlisle far worse than his affliction ever did.