That seems to give Carlisle pause, his own words turned against him once more. He gave many a sermon back in Bear Den; if only someone had taught him to follow what he says himself as dutifully as he listens to others in a confessional.
Glacius has a point, though -- more than one, really. He is no use to anyone dead. He cannot prove himself as worthy of either redemption or his family's legacy if he's no longer alive -- not that the latter particularly matters in Hadriel. But the alien has another point in that the symptoms of his fatigue, while Carlisle is used to dealing with them, are becoming progressively worse, and the clergyman can't help but wonder why. Is it his curse, or the expenditure of energy that's causing it?
He convinces himself it must be the former, as he cannot live with the possibility it may be the latter. His craft is so intrinsic to who he is, to his service to the Camisou... he cannot entertain the notion that he has no purpose in this world that won't result in him expediting his death.
Carlisle lets out a sigh against the alien. Twice-cursed only live for so long -- that much is a fact, common knowledge in his world that he came to terms with years ago. It seems even those who do their best to fight against the pull of their darker gifts are eventually drawn in by the current and suffocated beneath the depths.
"I am not pushing myself toward my end, Glacius," he insists quietly, though his tone betrays his uncertainty toward that. "I do what I must, and if it means your survival, then I would choose that every time."
He pauses as he says that, realization of just how important Glacius is to him. Prior to his time in Hadriel, he'd have run when given the chance, thrown others to the wolves if it meant his survival. His cowardice dictated what he would do when faced with danger.
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Glacius has a point, though -- more than one, really. He is no use to anyone dead. He cannot prove himself as worthy of either redemption or his family's legacy if he's no longer alive -- not that the latter particularly matters in Hadriel. But the alien has another point in that the symptoms of his fatigue, while Carlisle is used to dealing with them, are becoming progressively worse, and the clergyman can't help but wonder why. Is it his curse, or the expenditure of energy that's causing it?
He convinces himself it must be the former, as he cannot live with the possibility it may be the latter. His craft is so intrinsic to who he is, to his service to the Camisou... he cannot entertain the notion that he has no purpose in this world that won't result in him expediting his death.
Carlisle lets out a sigh against the alien. Twice-cursed only live for so long -- that much is a fact, common knowledge in his world that he came to terms with years ago. It seems even those who do their best to fight against the pull of their darker gifts are eventually drawn in by the current and suffocated beneath the depths.
"I am not pushing myself toward my end, Glacius," he insists quietly, though his tone betrays his uncertainty toward that. "I do what I must, and if it means your survival, then I would choose that every time."
He pauses as he says that, realization of just how important Glacius is to him. Prior to his time in Hadriel, he'd have run when given the chance, thrown others to the wolves if it meant his survival. His cowardice dictated what he would do when faced with danger.
So why is Glacius different? Why is he different?