Why put your life on the line again and again unless there was a greater purpose behind it all?

" So you had a sense of comradery that pushed you, " Kashimo remarked.

" And hope to keep the fire burning in your spirit. "

This man was noble. He could tell.

" My purpose--

he thinks of their fight and his pleas for death. i don't want this life. he thinks of how it may have ended if ...

once upon a time, he wanted them all to live. with expedition zero, he had been in love with a girl named julie. they had been happy- happy enough, considering their circumstances. a search and rescue- everything was fine, and then? then he died, and he didn't die. julie was watching.

their relationship fell apart after that. she was afraid of him, she thought he was lying. and even when she had driven blade after blade into his undying body, he lived- and she died. and he wanted to reach the paintress so that she could be brought back. they could all be brought back.

decades of pain had broken away at his resolve- not that he could really say that. and so he had gone from being the hero to being the villain. not that he needs to mention that. instead, he tilts his head, focusing on other parts of the answer. ❝ a sorcerer? i have never met a sorcerer before- but i remember as a child reading about them in storybooks. ❞

❝ moreso that i used to read stories with sorcerers to my younger sister, alicia. ❞ in better times, at least. the real verso doted on his younger sister. that love cost him his life ⎛ sometimes, he still smelled smoke. sometimes he saw canvases burning. sometimes he felt the flames on his flesh- ⎠

"And what are gestrals, exactly?" The pirate lass asks. "You sound very familiar with them."

plus, it's easier than it was when he was a kid. at the age he was- the real verso- when he came up with gestrals in the first place.

when the distortions fade, he's managed to create a small figurine of one. a portly creature made of wood. ❝ they're much larger back home. this one's just a replica. ❞ but he thinks for a moment that he's homesick. ❝ they're essentially immortal. if they break, they're brought to a sacred river, placed in the water, and they come back. granted, every time they come back, they're not quite the same as before. it's like starting life all over again. ❞

" What makes a man a warrior? What shapes him into someone able to survive the pain necessary for greatness? Some like to say that it's pure willpower. Working sunrise to sunset with sweat on your back and blood in your mouth. Releasing attachments and focusing entirely on the honor of battle-- is that the mark of a real fighter?

Or, some tell me that having someone worth fighting for invigorates their spirit in combat. If there is nobody to return to when it's time to lay down your weapons, then, what is the point in any of it?

❝ i think it varies from person to person, ❞ he thinks of simon. strong and brave and full of love. simon had joined expedition zero because he was that noble sort. that, and he was physically built for the task. a mountain of a man, an oddity among the people of lumiere. ❝ i've done my fair share of fighting, so ... i've seen a lot of people come with different things that they've fought for. ❞

somehow, he feels like that's not the real question. this guy's asking him what he fights for. verso doesn't know how to answer that. at least not honestly. ❝ i come from a place where every year, people die. it became more and more obvious as the years went on. see, there's a being called the paintress, and she's been counting down from 100 every year for the past 67 years- ❞

❝ and for a long time, expeditioners have been going out to see if they could stop her. they fight so that maybe there will be a better tomorrow for the people who are left behind. you know, for those who come after. ❞ the words flow easily enough, because they're true. ❝ before i came here, i was an expeditioner, too. we always told each other- when one falls, we continue. maybe a real warrior is someone who holds onto an ideal and fights for it, even when things seem hopeless. ❞ that's what maelle would say- something like that. maelle who fought so hard to ... no, he knows better than to think of that. maelle's not here. none of the others are here. and he's alive, whether he wants to be or not.

and whose fault was that? a fragment of a child's soul, the person he had been made from, made in the image of- the real verso dessendre had been a rather whimsical child trying to escape from the duties that would be placed on his shoulders, and while he had wielded godlike powers, he was still just a little boy.

he's seen people crumble under that sort of knowledge. he's seen the results of the death of self. he thinks of the yawning abyss and the golden blades, and simon who had been locked away in place of the curator. in the place of his father.

back then, simon had been the strongest person he knew- in body and in willpower. he'd vanished and verso thought that he'd died in the battle with the hauler ⎛ swords of light driven through the axon's body, but no trace of an expeditioner ⎠ - the truth was so much worse. ❝ there are people i know who would want to think that even under these sorts of circumstances, there's hope. ❞ he thinks of maelle's smile.

❝ well, tempting fate is almost second nature, now. ❞ verso thinks to every expedition he'd traveled with. of all the things he'd done in the times in between. reckless things, fighting nevrons and axons. reminiscing on the past-

seeking release as well. but he'd learned that there was no freedom from the agony and the truth in this new world; only an endless waking. ❝ i suppose the only thing we can really do is survive- i've also proven to be startlingly good at that. ❞

he laughs then, a sound laced with a deep exhaustion. god, he's tired.