He can feel the emotion underlying it, the mingled hope and fear— that quiet, worried longing for the world to make sense. Little good can be said of Remnant and their place in it, but at least there was a certainty in despair. An unwinnable game requires much less of its players than one they are still asked to strive in.

"What road do we walk?" It's meant to be said as wise rhetorical, but he finds himself asking too honestly, as though Oscar might somehow see the shape of this where he cannot. "And what do we wish it were?"

He raises a hand to the familiar curves of his antlers, but lets it fall again.

"I find my vision less than clear... It's only ever in hindsight that we can see the perils of our actions. I'm afraid there may be no greater wisdom for us than to tread on, as all men do."

He does not truly think there's anything better for them than this.