"I was a mercenary, a long time ago," he admits, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"It was hard to lose people. They follow you and die pointlessly, for do damn reason at all, and there's nothing you can do about it. They're all young. They could've made something of themselves. They could've fulfilled their dreams."

Bleak and blunt, spoken from someone who has seen far too much death for the short amount of time he's been alive.

"But they're doing what they wanted, right? At least.. they died free. And as long as there are precious things within your grasp, you have to treasure them."

Treasure them before that fleeting happiness vanishes. So many times he's foolishly thrown it away.

"In a way, the ones that didn't make it continue on like that, too. Through the living - through their memories."