[He knows that every once in a while, he's been there when those stories have come up. But he also knows there are many times in which she and Emil have not come to the Village, easily turned away by people who were judgemental and discriminating in their fears and nomadic uncertainties. Kainé and Emil have likely had many nights around the fire exchanging stories. Dreams. Passions. Discussions about who they each wanted to be. Where they wanted to be. How things might be different if they were given different lots in life.

It's not necessarily his own memory. Maybe a little in part. Either way, it still presents him with just a touch of warmth at the thought alone. Maybe because it involves two people he has cared for deeply. No amount of hatred in his veins can ever stop that from going away.

Kainé ruins whatever reverie he's created in those moments and he outright scowls.]

Listen to you. You'd know all about sticks in the ass, wouldn't you. You've got one there all the damned time, Kainé. Even when you're smiling, you just follow it up with more bitching. I don't think you're ever happy unless you have something to whine about.

[But you know what? That's valid. It's not like there weren't a lot of great things for either them back home. They had to hold onto what was great and cling, they did.]