[ Apathy. Despair. She has seen so much of it. It's a story that was told countlessly over the time they had wandered the darkness of Ultima Thule and heard the words of the creatures there. And though Y'shtola hadn't been there until the end, she knows the tale likely never changed: these worlds became aware of what was the inevitability of their descent, their loss, the end of their lives, and they became twisted by the agony of their grief and the depths of their fear.

In truth, she cannot blame them, nor can she particularly blame Hermes or Fandaniel of that emotion. Is it not common enough? She lived through the descent of Dalamud, after all, where any who saw its fall thought the end was nigh. Acceptance and despair linger on a knife's edge, and any can slip to one or the other.

But she is sure what she would do - and did - and so she lifts her shoulders in a not-quite-shrug. ]

The despair consumed you. And rather than look for hope, the hopelessness was your weapon, as it was when you returned to Eorzea.

[ She doesn't bother with asking when he is from. She'll know soon enough, she thinks. ]

And how have you bided your time here, with no Convocation to speak of and no connection to our home? Or does your desire to see the end extend to worlds you do not call your own?