Aryn sighed to himself softly; he wasn't used to this, not after so long. "I should go." He said to her. "I shouldn't be here. I can see that." he swallowed, a reflex, an old habit he needed to break. He flew away from her, away from those below. He didn't belong anywhere, always moving, always hiding from prying eyes. It was almost peaceful, but lonely for him. it tired him, with one foot planted firmly in the heavens, the other in hell. He had found he couldn't kill himself; he had tried everything in his power, diving into the ground, drowning himself, shooting himself, and so on. It was just painful, and he never died. Maybe someone else was supposed to kill him. He really never knew what was going to be revealed about himself, and upon his research he had found nothing of importance, nothing to point him to the reason of his existence. He dived again, down towards the ground, speeding like a bullet and miles from anyone, now. Maybe this time he would die. But no. He slammed into the ground headfirst, and he felt the smokelike blood seep from his head and close after awhile. Minor injuries. Minor! He screamed, a guttural, deep-throated cry of pain and loss.