Seishu rolls his eyes at the other guardian admitting guilt for killing. On the inside however he feels a little twinge. [i]'I wonder if I can help it when I say stuff like that. I've always been this way with him. Even though I no longer feel that he is an enemy, for some reason, I still feel like picking on him. . . All the time'[/i] He observes the little lesson with an expressionless face, but a part of him feels like patting the Dream Guardian on the head for speaking without prejudice. His eyes trail down, following Enasi's line of sight, until they rest on the symbol they share. The little white curve, the light, and the little black dot, the dark. 

With a sigh he holds up his hand and turns his gaze to the little white dot in his symbol. It seems to pulsate, a faint glow around it. [i]'Must be reacting to being around so much positive for so long. This situation has never happened before, we have no way of knowing how this will affect the balance'[/i] with a sigh he drops his hand on to the soft surface of the bed, only to grimace as it lands in a half dry puddle of his own blood.

A creepy chill runs up his spine, but not at the feeling of so much of his blood outside his body. His eye widen and slowly he looks towards the room's two other occupants. With both sets of eyes on him he feels a new wave of unease. Rather than being embarrassed at the rapt attention, he feels the need to lash out. His eyes narrow into a glare and his lips part to lash out with some sort of venomous statement or question, but then his self control inquiry to himself flashes through his mind and with great effort he brings up his left hand. With a low growl he sticks one of his knuckles in his mouth and bites down on his crooked finger hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of blood and sharp pain brings him down a bit and as soon an he's sure he won't lash out at his host the the little bite he lets his finger go. Licking it carefully he keeps his eyes on the wound and asks, “I know I should make no requests of you, seeing as I'm an unwelcome force in your realm, but perhaps you could find it somewhere in that never ending well of kindness you have buried in your chest the will to grant me a small favor.” Still focused on his finger he turns in this way and that, like a girl examining her nails he takes a deep breath and mumbles, “This bed is rather foul with my blood. . . .” His voice trails off and once again he feels the urge to snap, so the finger returns to his teeth, the blood to his tongue.