[it isn't exactly that he didn't expect questions to turn his way at some point—aster can carry a conversation well enough, is in tune enough with all his companions to ask the right questions at the right moments—but ardbert still startles. when you were a hero, aster had said. were. what's another few years of deprecation after he spent a hundred years aimlessly roaming the norvandt, languishing in self-pity?

still, aster has never stricken ardbert as the type to ask cruel questions for sadistic reasons. it's that knowledge that has ardbert pensive instead of anguished.]

I was angry, of course. My friends and I—we all slew ourselves, that our souls might reach the Source. Even that was a final resort. We reasoned that if by some chance, our efforts could spare even a few souls in the First... Perhaps all that we've done would not have been for naught.

[he gives a little shrug. he's had a long time to compartmentalize his feelings. not that it had entirely worked, but the eternity he feels like he's spent walking has at least given him some semblance of blasé poise.]

Not that it matters, when all we did was usher in the end of the world all the faster. I don't suppose it was like that for you. It's one thing to fail to save everyone. And another, to know you are the direct catalyst to the greatest threat in your world.