Azem can sense how affected he is by the sight she shares, flooding her with a sense of guilt for exposing the boy-man to something so horrific. To hear him offer condolences makes her feel as though something has caught itself in her throat, and the corners of her eyes burn. She shakes her head, offering a rueful smile.

"A city can be rebuilt," she explains. "My home was with what was left of my people."

The quarter of them that were left after Zodiark's last meal, and lesser still after Hydaelyn's summoning.

Azem shakes her head again, though this time it is to shake errant thoughts loose from her mind, allowing her to focus instead on the injured leg before her. When she reaches out her hand it is with a delicate, fleeting touch that radiates golden warmth as it analyzes his leg, informing her of the extent of its damage. Her lips thin, eyes narrowing behind her mask.

"This is no minor wound." Her tone is a blend of accusation, sadness, and disappointment. "What makes you believe you deserve this pain?"