you have only been at the monastery for a couple of days but already , you cannot wait to leave . you understand her reasons for doing what she is doing , but it cannot be right . the proximity of these children ( for even among humanity's childishness , these are children ) to weapons , to fighting , to war , makes your stomach turn . you have taken to sitting on the tops of towers --- never explaining how you get up or back down --- and watching their training from afar . it reminds you , far too easily , of the war that you abandoned . ( and that , in turn , reminds you of the love you abandoned . ) ( you are better , now that you have reunited with him , but the memory still burns . )
it perturbs you , even when you are not physically watching . ( you know that her mother raised her better than this , raised her to respect life better than this --- but you do understand how broken she likely feels . ) ( you understand what it is like to be among the last of your kind . ) ( to be the last of your kind . ) you spot one of the children you have seen training , and walk up to him . without preamble ( without so much as an introduction , even ) you speak . ❝ why do you fight ? ❞