Azwel sets the chair upright, dusts the chips off it, and sits, thinking. He's suddenly tired, as though all this delving into his own emotions instead of others' has taxed his energy.

His usual manic smile and theatrical tone are gone and in their place is... a kind of melancholy.

"Oh, so many things most of society would object to, at least where I'm from. To value knowledge instead of religion, thought instead of belief. To always question authority, to do what is right instead of what is nice, to work toward the greater good regardless of present societal whims." A beat where he gives a half-smile. "And to always tread carefully around astral fissures."