The emotions just poured out, the self hate at what he had survived and done to orcs that just wanted to exist, that he had dragged Vorela into it, and then even more women into it just to try and soothe his still screaming heart. The fury at everything around him, at just not letting him DIE and get the release he so desperately craved. The sorrow as he stared into the new born and scared eyes of his children, and the terror at knowing they would be looking up at him, when he had no idea on how to be a father. The fear, as he ordered his constructs, his new creations, his SONS and DAUGHTERS into battle from the command center, where he was safe and watching them die, when he quietly wished for that same release. The heart break, as his children left, but had to be strong as the companions, their mother's fretted, and his children looked at him, fear firmly held in check, for guidance and approval.<br/><br/>It was a lifetime of letting the bleeding wounds just go, as he let the terror of living out, knowing he was putting far too much strain on a woman he couldn't help but love, admire, envy, and desire, even as she felt all of the emotions, thoughts, and feelings he kept locked away, his tears and terrors slipping faster, as he desperately tried to control them, mentally screaming at himself for being a coward, a weakling, a worthless piece of shit.<br/><br/>Yet, eventually, years or seconds later, the emotions drained, and he was resting his head against Ama's lap, the tears and fears having run dry, leaving him a small wyrmling, whimpering and tired, wanting it all to just END, no matter how it did. End of the terror, of life, of responsibility, it wasn't an issue, just an end would be a relief. He rested against her, finally and completely vulnerable, resting, waiting, for either relief or the next hammer to drop.