Perception began to fill Moulin. He felt his skin warming against the warm air. He didn't even realize the shift of temperature around him as he stared at the historian. For the first time, he felt special and unique. But there was no joy.
"What does this have to do with me? And what does it mean?" He asks. His question wasn't directed to Estuvian or anyone. Neither himself. He only let these questions float in the air as if to ask the wind.
"Does it trouble you greatly?" Estuvian asked moments later, the mirth faded from his face.
"Trouble? No." Moulin shakes his head. He continued, "Although, it persistently eats away my will to disregard it completely... it does not stop lingering in my mind and in... my heart."
Eyes growing confused and desperate, his troubled expression faced Estuvian, "Should I be doing something? What should I do? I seek for you to be given even a vague clue..."
