"Your cause is worthy. Take it."

[01:20] Adar says, "So as long as he's caged and stripped from his wings within the Ultovex's staff, I won't find peace of mind or heart."
[01:40] The Spirit wants to reach out, to offer some kind of physical comfort, but she half reaches out and then pulls her talons back before she can breach his personal space and cause him discomfort.

Instead she can only offer him the comfort of her presence, of the Arcane, and of Sanctuary itself.

"You've done nothing that warrants forgiveness. I know well the apathy of the world. It's long been a poison, and it's why I couldn't leave this place in the mortal world."

Nothing has changed. The seeds she had gifted were never planted. What a world indeed. This was her duty all the same; she is tied to this place for this exact purpose.

To put power in the hands of those that would use it for a righteous cause.

"As I told to you, there are things that grow here that grow nowhere else. This place was made with the blessings of many Great Spirits. I know what you need- wait a moment."

Her wings pop openand flap once. She vanishes somewhere in a blur of motion before she returns with something in her outstretched, draconic talons.

Situated between them is a dazzling, crystalline fruit.

"Here. It is filled with the essence of this place. Something grown here can only leave Sanctuary once every fifteen years, but you are the first to come here. Your cause is worthy. Take it."
(Caretaker)
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[01:40] Caretaker says, "Sors has long been a blight...We should not forget what kind of causes made such a monster, but he must be taken care of."
[02:12] "I'm human, Caretaker." The Keeper of the Lighthouse would declare, grievingly. "Ideals function as such. Utopian models to which we can chose to attempt and abide. Yet, exercising them with perfection is never possible within the tangible world. I am guilty of inadequacy, more so than any other."

There's a clear roadway that leads the navigator into this mindscape. Clear to everyone, these were things Adar questioned and wove through every day.

"I know Sors has undergone gruesome experiences. Grew apathetic and distanced from care or regard in wake of being faced with adversity." A vague parallel would tie a younger iteration of the scholar to him, when he still bore the title of 'Gutt', as a mountain-dwelling orphaned child of Dusk. In the gray. Bubbled. Running. "Yet, kindness and patience are struggles we must face everyday. They're difficult routes to traverse."

A hint of brooding silence.

"It's certainly unfortunate. But that's where I draw the line between selfless and selfish." Adar replied, sternly. "I can forever allow others to repent. Struggle in rehabilitating them to my last breath. Get in their line of fire to no end. But Sors…"

An exasperated heave sees him meet the limit of his serenity, patience and drive to understand. His inner sentiments had progressively surfaced, loosened up by the vibrant, accepting halo of the Caretaker's arcane haven.

This was Adar. At his truest, beyond his aloof facade. Beyond his self-loathing. Beyond his modesty.

"He can no longer roam. I couldn't do that to myself, or any other who's been or is to become wronged by Despair. I simply can't abide it, my body wants to move on it's own. My thoughts resolve in the same sensible interval."

The fruit, unraveled by the keeper of Sanctuary, would be idly stared at in bewilderment for what seemed like an eternity. The soundscape was limited to the attack-lacking bell-like sounds of wisps fluttering in curious proximity, as well as the passive waves landing ashore few meters away from the pair.

"... I-" Hesitation struck, as usual. "There has to be someone better. A person more deserving of it. An inspiring figure - like in books."

He'd struggle with the idea of being worthy of the rare gift.

"Another Arthur Pendragon. Another Commander Ukitake. Another Regent Geese." Apologetically, he only allowed his hand to hover over the crystalline yield of the life stream. "I am just…"

Gritting his teeth with a jaw clenched, Adar's skeletal fingers clasped themselves around the arcane bloom, removing it from the spiritual apparition's grasp. Accepting his fate - submitting to his apocryphal goal.

"I'm just a bookworm who grew too curious."
(Adar)
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