"Whatever you are comfortable speaking. I see your suffering, even if I do not know it..." Maybe a bit cryptic, but ever since waking up in the cage, he's been forced to actually speak to others; something he has done, in the past ten years, a number of times that could be counted on a single hand. "Suffering is the name I have chosen, not the one given to me by my parents. My people some times take on such names; a word that describes us, or reminds us of something important. Something to strive for. I see what I am, wherever I look," he spoke a bit more solemnly; and quietly, too.<br/><br/>In time he would talk to them all, understand them better; allow them to understand him better. But it was her suffering that made him come to her. The suffering those men had inflicted upon her made him want to reach out to her, help soothe that suffering. But to do that, he needed to know it... and perhaps, by sharing his own suffering, she would be willing to share hers. "When I was a child, my parents were stoned to death by fearful humans. They blamed us for things beyond our control. I ran, and yet, I saw. That night, I ran until my body gave out," the pain he still felt seemed to pulse through his words; this was one wound that time had never healed.<br/><br/>"I collapsed near a monastery. By the time day dawned, I was awake, and able to explore. It was empty. Weeds grown over the garden plots. Blood so old it had turned black, along the walls, along the floor. Shattered skeletons. There had been much suffering there, too. I found some place safe there, though. Nobody in my village knew of this place; nobody talked of it. And one section of it was untouched by suffering."<br/><br/>"For ten years, I have lived there. Had. I read their books. I foraged, and found seeds to grow vegetables. Healing herbs.  The monastery had seeds, and some of them still had life in them. I lived there, alone," he paused, now, to drink some water; perhaps unaware that the tattoo would nourish him, or perhaps out of some sort of habit. "I decided that when I was ready, I would enter the world outside. I would find suffering, and I would find a way to fix it." He grew silent, watched her to see how she would react.<br/><br/>Had he gone too far? Said too much? Or perhaps not enough... he didn't know. But, soon, he imagined, he would find out.