[Zain paints a parallel that is painfully accurate in its summation of what Ardyn is, comparing him to the heart of that dragon. Irritation flares at presumption, but perhaps even more so at presumption that rings with truth. That he is a twisted thing, delegated to a purpose that he never wanted, never asked for.

Maybe that much could be seen in his eyes, if the other bothered to look at him. But he'll not say as much, he'll reveal nothing about himself. His answers shall be dismissive and frustrating, even if his mind treats them with more weighted import.]

Perhaps, perhaps not. I am no clairvoyant, able to peer into the future. Nor am I an expert in omens, good or ill. And yet how strange that you would shunt the blame unto those who are not participating in these 'drastic measures'.

[That much, maybe, is a lie. He was once nothing more than a walking bad omen.

Ardyn releases his grip from Zain's neck, only to replace it with the sharp edge of his blade pressing against skin, with enough pressure that it may draw a very small trickle of red.]

Raysc? Your leader?