Kasrjin was not completely sure of what to say. He did offer to hear her out on her loss of faith--in truth, such matters interested him, especially with a people as foreign as those of the Western continent--but it was only now that he truly considered whether or not he had something of substance with which to respond with.
It was now that he became increasingly aware of their differences in addition to their similarities. The Brume was a difficult sight to take in when he first laid eyes on it. Basic fortifications lay in ruins, and perfectly usable manpower was permitted to waste away during what he had believed to be a time of total war. It was so incredibly wasteful. And yet, he knew that expressing such a sentiment would earn disdain among the Western continent. He did not understand why such was so--after all, if Ishgard was embroiled in a war, then its objective must be victory, and did it not make sense to devote all available resources to achieving that objective?--and the Xaela was not entirely sure he would ever comprehend such.
At times, Kasrjin could glance at Roen and sense some odd manner of kinship. At other times, he was met with nothing but befuddlement and confusion, and a peculiar sense of restraint that seized him whenever he was about to express his confusion on certain subjects. It was a contrast.
They coincided at the oddest junctures, and parted ways at others, and there seemed to be little rhyme or reason to it.
“All wander,†he repeated, speaking slowly, his rumbling voice having lowered into a smooth baritone utterance. “Certainty is a...privilege to have. But with certainty comes lack of perspective, as well. All believe in a path that is set for them. All learn to leave the path and wander.â€
Kasrjin was very careful in selecting his words so as to avoid ambiguity on his intent. He was also, perhaps ironically, uncertain of whether or not anything he was saying possessed value. But one thing he had definitely learned was that the Western continent habitually assigned value to that which seemingly did not have any.
It was odd.
He carefully considered her words again. Her tone sounded forlorn...perhaps regretful. But her words did not appear to express or even imply such sentiment, at least to him. This, too, was a confusing nuance of their communication.
He would take a risk and make an assumption.
“You...possess regret?†He questioned in a soft tone that could almost be called timid. “You wished for things to change, and made an effort. But things did not.†A pause. “And you assume….responsibility for such.â€
It was now that he became increasingly aware of their differences in addition to their similarities. The Brume was a difficult sight to take in when he first laid eyes on it. Basic fortifications lay in ruins, and perfectly usable manpower was permitted to waste away during what he had believed to be a time of total war. It was so incredibly wasteful. And yet, he knew that expressing such a sentiment would earn disdain among the Western continent. He did not understand why such was so--after all, if Ishgard was embroiled in a war, then its objective must be victory, and did it not make sense to devote all available resources to achieving that objective?--and the Xaela was not entirely sure he would ever comprehend such.
At times, Kasrjin could glance at Roen and sense some odd manner of kinship. At other times, he was met with nothing but befuddlement and confusion, and a peculiar sense of restraint that seized him whenever he was about to express his confusion on certain subjects. It was a contrast.
They coincided at the oddest junctures, and parted ways at others, and there seemed to be little rhyme or reason to it.
“All wander,†he repeated, speaking slowly, his rumbling voice having lowered into a smooth baritone utterance. “Certainty is a...privilege to have. But with certainty comes lack of perspective, as well. All believe in a path that is set for them. All learn to leave the path and wander.â€
Kasrjin was very careful in selecting his words so as to avoid ambiguity on his intent. He was also, perhaps ironically, uncertain of whether or not anything he was saying possessed value. But one thing he had definitely learned was that the Western continent habitually assigned value to that which seemingly did not have any.
It was odd.
He carefully considered her words again. Her tone sounded forlorn...perhaps regretful. But her words did not appear to express or even imply such sentiment, at least to him. This, too, was a confusing nuance of their communication.
He would take a risk and make an assumption.
“You...possess regret?†He questioned in a soft tone that could almost be called timid. “You wished for things to change, and made an effort. But things did not.†A pause. “And you assume….responsibility for such.â€
