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For the first time that day, Cynthian had a genuine laugh in the form of a chuckle. Short lived as it was, it still made him feel just a smidge better. "Yeah, this climate isn't a good fit a plant." "Thanks Astrid, truly." Starr had told him something similar too, but he didn't think much of...

"No, I didn't, but I can't help but feel I'm at fault regardless. I just... I don't know what to do anymore," Cynthian said as another cold breeze washed over him and made him shiver.

"I killed my mother, Astrid," Cynthian said suddenly. He didn't know why he did, but it was as if his heart was ruptured and spilling all its contents. "The night of the fire, I'd stabbed her in the chest, right down the middle. I passed out afterwards and woke up the morning in a blanket of...

"I'm sorry, for making you worry." Was Cynthian could muster, and truly he curled up even further physically and mentally from guilt and shame. He couldn't shoulder it all. It was too painful. He tried to get up, but his legs ached with a piercing pain. Though it made him to wince, he still...

Cynthian ignored those, or perhaps he was too absorbed in his thoughts to even listen. His body continued to shiver from the cold, though he couldn't really feel the coldness anymore. He gazed up at the grey sky wistfully and sighed. "Astrid, do you sometimes wonder to yourself whether your...

Those weren't the answers Cynthian was looking for. Perhaps what he should have asked was for how the person is supposed to atone, or if they could. Astrid mention of consulting loved ones made Cynthian's stomach lurch. He recounted the early days when Mama Zahra was so fatigued and depressed...

That question was like a pick axe chipping away at the wall he was trying to form around his mind. He'd told Icetales he was fine, he'd told Starr he was fine and he'd already told Astrid the same thing too. Cynthian drew in a deep breath and said nothing as Astrid offered him the water canteen...

"I'll be fine, probably. Just woke up a tad early from my hibernation," Cynthian said. He staggered a bit and winced. The soreness of his legs rushed at him all at once now that he'd stopped his mindless marching. Slowly, he settled down on the sand and sighed. "Thanks by the way, but you...

Cynthian didn't quite know how to respond to that. However, between the dark circles around his eyes, the paleness of his green skin and the lack of health his flowers clearly displayed, he figured his appearance said everything for him. "Fine, I guess," he answered curtly. "What about you...

Walking all around with no aim and direction took a long time on Cynthian's short strides. By the time he'd come upon the beach, his legs were sore and his head throbbed with a dull headache. Yet, he marched on. He did not know when to stop, or if he should. Cynthian eventually found himself...