[It was a vile memory, unpleasant in every aspect. He'd tasted the man's blood in his mouth, heard his pained cry. But, he'd also shared a mind with Nidhogg. Looking up at Aymeric, smiling and warm as the wyrm lay dead, stood in direct defiance to the ancient dragon's pure arrogance and wrath. He'd felt the outstanding and overwhelming rage and power of the wyrm, and yet here still stood the other man, practically unscathed.

Practically poetry.

It stood to reason however, that the sensation of it wouldn't be so easily forgotten, nor personally forgiven. But now perhaps was not the time to burden the other man with those darker, more private thoughts.]

Could I not... I'd surely disappoint myself.

[Even if it was only a few words at a time, spoken no louder than a murmur. Now though, his consciousness was starting to fade, the extent of his injuries too great to stay awake for much longer. His hand upon Aymeric's began to falter, his eyes unfocusing.]

Please, should Alphinaud ask after me... Let him know... I'm going to be very upset if his whinging wakes me up.