[It is tempting to Liem, clearly: the memory of his home country, and the thought of going back there. Even though, given his circumstances, he can't help but think that he might be going back home only to head directly to receive Pharasma's judgement in the afterlife. Still, that would be fine as well. He's lived a longer life than most, and it would be a relief to go to Utopia after struggling for so long in the mortal world. Just as long as he could be confident about the fate of those he was leaving behind. As long as they would be all right without him.
He tries not to give time to the worry that perhaps they might not be, that he might resurrect his country only for it to be plunged once again into generations of war. He had been trying to save it from that fate before he'd come here, but if war descended on Taldor after all, could he really feel proud to have fought for its return?]
There is good and bad in all worlds. The one you would create will be no different.
[This is the rock to which he clings to, as he weathers the storm of doubts Zenith inflicts upon him. No matter how cruel his world, no matter how discordant or unjust, he cannot believe that anything better could exist. Why, then, would the gods have made it the way that it is?]
My home never offered kindness to me that I hadn't earned ten times over, but I still love it.
[There is a slight sense of resentment as he admits this, even as he speaks of his love. His words are not exaggeration; the humans of his home country had called him disgusting since the day he was born. The addition of a stone in his chest wouldn't make any real difference, not when his eyes and his teeth mark him so plainly as inhuman.
And yet, how can he judge any of them for their condemnation? His very existence is a reminder that to some, people are simply prey; a testament to violence acted against them by inhuman monsters shunned by the sun itself. And he does take so clearly after his sire.]
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He tries not to give time to the worry that perhaps they might not be, that he might resurrect his country only for it to be plunged once again into generations of war. He had been trying to save it from that fate before he'd come here, but if war descended on Taldor after all, could he really feel proud to have fought for its return?]
There is good and bad in all worlds. The one you would create will be no different.
[This is the rock to which he clings to, as he weathers the storm of doubts Zenith inflicts upon him. No matter how cruel his world, no matter how discordant or unjust, he cannot believe that anything better could exist. Why, then, would the gods have made it the way that it is?]
My home never offered kindness to me that I hadn't earned ten times over, but I still love it.
[There is a slight sense of resentment as he admits this, even as he speaks of his love. His words are not exaggeration; the humans of his home country had called him disgusting since the day he was born. The addition of a stone in his chest wouldn't make any real difference, not when his eyes and his teeth mark him so plainly as inhuman.
And yet, how can he judge any of them for their condemnation? His very existence is a reminder that to some, people are simply prey; a testament to violence acted against them by inhuman monsters shunned by the sun itself. And he does take so clearly after his sire.]