( What will become of him will be, but he is not yet. Mydei has never known how to say the right words to comfort, but the expressions that pass over Phainon's face have his own shifting into a brief one of concern. Not for him, but for the other man's sake -- it does him no good to worry over what has not yet happened when there is so much for him to still do. While he cannot feel their Deliverer's distress through whatever bond they've accidentally created, Mydei doesn't need to in order to know what lurks behind his smile. So he levels a look at Phainon, wishes to say something to set his mind at ease, and fails to come up with the right words.

A trend, it seems, whenever he wishes to express something heartfelt towards the other man. How could his tongue turn to cotton, his thoughts betray the depths of his respect for the other man, and leave him stumbling and uneven with what he means to say?

The sigh that escapes him once again shakes his shoulder, a scoff rising to his lips and filling the air between them. )

No. It hasn't even been a week, by my accounting. ( And has only died twice in that time, given the power of Strife that now answers to him. ) I can't claim to understand the workings of Oronyx, but this has the hallmarks of their work. Has so much truly passed in so little time?