[Precious is... not the word he'd use, not for war, not for sacrifice. He's seen and been through too much to call it "precious."]

I hope you mean your duties, not the whole standing in a pool of your own blood part.

[Because even for him, that's pushing it. He's willing to sacrifice, willing to let himself be the least important factor of an equation, but he has no notions that his sacrifices are beautiful or precious. They're necessary, and most of the time, dirty.]

Besides, you've got a one-up on me still.

[He grins that half mischievous grin of his, still sincere all the same.]

I don't remember my father. A mother and a sister, that's all I had, with our backs to the forests. Couldn't say we had much either, even when I was working.

[And then the war came to their footsteps in full force. That part of him, he carries it with him everyday. There is nothing else but himself and his past to propel him towards the future.

For a brief moment, he wonders if his mother got out of the city in time, wonders if she was able to get far out enough to avoid the Nifs.

And then he realizes, it would've been the second time she'd seen the Nifs invade. Once, their homes. Once, the last place they could call a place to live, but never home.]