If he were that type--of he were more human--he might have cried in frustration. Whether it was good or bad that he couldn't, he didn't know and he didn't want to try to guess, either. Or was not knowing even worse? How could anyone stand to be so complicated? That was for humans to worry about.

He could feel the edges of her hurt, her discomfort, but instead of reaching for it like before, he withdrew, pulling back like it burned and keeping it separate from himself.

She was trying to help. He trusted her. This wasn't about that. This was pain and possibility he'd never known before. And he didn't know if there was a cure anywhere for it.

"It shouldn't be hard. Helping shouldn't hurt. It... It's duty and deeds done in devotion but twisted to dark desires because someone can't see. Because I can't see through the dark. I can't know if I can't see but I need to know."