"In a way." He says noncommittally. It's not entirely the same, but how could it be?

Emet-Selch folds his hands on his lap and looks up at the sky. How many times has he recounted this story? "Until recently, I was the last of my people. I and I alone carried the burden of their hopes and dreams. I had to press onward for their sake, for I could not let history leave them to obscurity."

His expression softens. "Then, upon arriving here, my dear friend was been returned to me after so many years of being apart." After so many years of little success.