Alcuin follows dutifully, wondering if he looks as dull and lifeless as he feels. Carefully, he arranges himself so that he's not crushing Armin, and tucks his head against the younger man's jaw. After a long moment he sighs.

"I thought I had managed to move past this... this fear. I faced the memories, patched the rifts in my mind. I know everything that happened, everything I did or said... And yet." A small, bitter, hopeless laugh crawls from his throat. "I did not even die like so many. I have no right to be this way."