Hoshor Plains and i'm sorry that i lie when i talk to you

As sweet as Evergreen is, Alarian finds himself tiring quickly of the questions. He doesn't want to exchange pleasantries or eat or — anything, really. No, His voice is barely above a whisper, still muffled by fur. I just want — What does he want? To feel wanted, perhaps, while he rots in a sad pile, though he imagines it must be difficult to want the wreck he's allowed himself to become. Memories of Midar flash through his mind, and a sob tears itself from his throat without warning. He only tries to speak for a moment longer before he gives up entirely, deciding the other probably won't be surprised at this point.