[... Woman has problems. XI His gloved fingers connect with your chin, tilting it, the grip is firm but not harsh. ]

Be quiet, little girl. You won't hear the people you're waiting for if you keep carrying on like that.

[These whispers come into your ears, but he's stopped talking to you. In fact, the god that was standing before you is nothing but a drifting image, fading like his touch.]

Did you ever take an oath to those people who died? Did you promise to protect them and fail? Did you come here to hate everything? I wish they had come in your place: someone less bitter and jaded who might live on in peace. People who pass on often wish their friends and family to survive, and you insult them, interrupting your own ceremony.

I pity you.