Lifted as though he's nothing. Every comfort now feels like it's stolen, but he greedily takes this one. To be dropped in the ocean and then suddenly to a desert. Every drop of water feels not enough.

Angeal talks of mundane things, and that is a comfort all it's own. A sense of normality beyond the fog.

"That sounds nice." He's exhausted, but afraid to sleep. Who knows what dreams may come? He leans into Angeal a bit more, craving that familiar scent. "Thank you, Angeal. I... feel so lost." Unlike him really, to admit such a thing. Or it was unlike him, but very much like the other Byleth. Is he losing himself?