Fendros closed his eyes and tried to calm down. He was by no means proud, more scared than anything, as much as he would loathe to admit it. Scared of himself, the beast. He glanced up at Meesei, who was hard to read, courtesy of her race, but had an air of satisfaction about her. Fendros didn't like this, what he had become, he didn't like it at all. Rejecting Meesei's extended hand, he got up on his own. He looked to the corpse that had been torn into so enthusiastically and murmured, "I could never be proud of this..."

"If this is how I have to survive from now on, so be it," Fendros continued, raising his voice. He turned to Meesei, "but don't you dare assume I could be proud of this!" Fendros' expression was a mixture of anger and sadness, as if still fighting what he had become, "I am not going to become some blood-lusting savage, no matter what my beast desires! No matter if it's an ally to me!" Fendros cut himself off, rapidly ran both of his hands through his hair, and spun away on a heel. He walked over and leaned his hands against the rock that the ogre was previously occupying. He felt a wave of fatigue wash over him as he brewed up more words to argue further. He kept seeing flashes of his family and he couldn't help but continue feeling grief. He reminded himself that shouting more would not matter, he was only really arguing with himself. Fendros wiped his eyes and walked slowly back to Meesei again, not looking at her directly, and showing less happiness than a widow. He had at least brought his mind back to mostly rational thinking rather than the emotional maelstrom that seemed to have surfaced. "Excuse me, please..." Fendros said quietly, "What happens now?"