[ His hands still stay as fist while Niah softly whines some. If anything, they tense more when he feels those hands rub over his own. Eventually, the characters he's made up start trembling, showing cracks of paper white underneath. They don't crumble, instead white characters would form the shape of his eyes, then take shape of tears that do not exist.

The weight of all of his actions settle on his shoulders, heavy and threatening to crush him... The guilt he has stifled for eons comes in full bloom. The trip, despite leaving him in rather decent shape, really screwed with his mind. ]

This haze is not unpleasant.

[ He doesn't like debating who he is, whether he exists, or if anything here is real, but if he didn't overthink it? It's pleasant. He wonders if it could be consider death, if he let things be. He can rest. But now he's suffering with the knowledge that again maybe he can change things. ]

If this is a dream and I never wake up... The you from the ending I wish for is here.

[ If his sister wasn't here, if she was safe at home with their companions, then this is a sweet dream. ]