At the poke of the cloth against his forearm, one heavily-burdened eye peeked out from the crisscross of arms that hid it. A few fingers stuck out beneath his arm and took the cloth, tugging it inside. Rhocanth rubbed it over his face, clearing it a little better of the mess that had been there previously. He took a while with it, not speaking until he was finished and he had stared over his knees at the far bushes in silence for at least a minute.
"I just... I don't understand. I don't know what I'm doing." His voice was muffled from inside the rag, and a little raw. "Have I even done the right thing? I just want to go home, so badly. I... I didn't have enough time!"
He turned his eyes to Lythe here, round and mournful. "There was so much I had left to do and should have done, so much I wanted to do. And now... now, in just a short time no one will remember that I was ever there. 'I am not a person', they said. 'No longer even a memory'. Really?"
Momentum was starting to build, sorrow growing hard and crystallizing into frustration, rage. Rhocanth stood from his spot again, only to begin pacing around amongst the leaves.
"I know exactly what I am. I am a damned idiot! By some strange twist I am still alive, and a lifetime away from all that was ruined, and yet the only thing I can think about is the city... the people... my friends, if I had any at all... my family. I would do anything to go back. I would tramp 'round this mountain and all the way back and through the very center of the stone, because I am worried for them!"
He stopped abruptly, and with a fierce growl, "Grrh!!", kicked a thicker layer of leaves. They were sent leaping into the air, to land in a soft splay. Pressure released for a moment, Rhocanth let his arms hang limply at his sides, rag dangling from his fingertips, and settled Lythe with a miserable stare. "I don't want to be anything," he murmured earnestly. "I just want to see my mother."