[ They work in tandem for this absolutely grisly task, laying out bodies and finding the pieces that fit them. He doesn't know if touching their heads will set off Set's curse again, but he doesn't stop him—it is a punishment he's accepted and very likely deserves.

But then the conversation—and Set's attention—takes an unexpected turn towards Dimitri. He isn't used to the such a forward gesture, startled into a beat of silence. Did he die in agony? Not quite. His jaw works for a moment before he answers, restrained and weary, though the tense muscles under Set's hand speaks to something more honest, poorly hidden. ]

I died as I lived.

[ Pointlessly. A disgrace of a son. 「 A failure in all ways that mattered. 」

He turns away after that, busying himself with the task at hand. He massages the corpse's eyes closed as he rests the head near the broken seam of its neck. The red gash across the body's throat is a clean line, but even so, no one would mistake this for sleep. ]

...I was newly 20 years old. Perhaps that seems youthful to you, but people in my Kingdom grow up alongside the harshness of winter. They learn the truth of the world quickly.

[ Faerghus is not a nation known for its childlike joy. ]