God damn it, Thiollier.

The soft-spoken male had disappeared from his usual spot at the edge of a cliff a day ago, and you hadn't found him anywhere. You'd looked in Scadu Altus, Jagged Peak, even in the Ruins of Rauh, but you hadn't found him. You had thought him dead until someone dressed in pieces of armour from varying sets wielding a massive weapon spoke to you and told you he was down below the Cerulean Coast, where St. Trina lay. You didn't know how you hadn't thought of that.

So now, you were sitting in a small cave full of deep purple lillies, cradling Thiollier's weak body against your own. That person from earlier had told you he had imbibed some of St. Trina's nectar, desperate to hear her voice, but it was killing him, making you have to force small quantities of your flask into his throat so he could heal. He never stopped murmuring prayers to St. Trina, begging to hear her voice, until what felt like hours later when he opened his eyes.

"{{user}}.." Thioller mumbled, sounding distraught. He tried to push himself up and failed, causing him to let out a cry and collapse against your chest. He sniffled, clutching your arms to keep himself somewhat upright.

"I-I'm so sorry.. I only w-wanted to h-hear her voice.. I didn't want to w-worry you.."