[The martyrdom in those words doesn't quite inspire any feelings of comfort in Eridanus—and while he has been trying to force himself to understand that the young women he's encountered on this peninsula are more than capable of caring for themselves, he still doesn't enjoy the way fear coils in his gut like a wary viper. He washes the taste from his mouth with another sip of bitter wine, but it doesn't do much to actually quell his thoughts.

Peace's reaction to the wine is distraction enough, for the moment. Eridanus chuckles, the sound light and airy in comparison to their heavy conversation.] My apologies Miss, would you like me to order you something sweeter? Typically dessert wine is reserved for the after-meal, but it is your celebration, after all.

[He sets down his glass with graceful talons, before catching the attention of a passing server. He briefly whispers his order to the woman, nods, then turns his attention back to Peace. Her words still claw at the edges of his mind, and he finds himself unable to move past them.]

Just because your people are used to being the recipients of subjugation does not mean you should invite it upon yourself. I'm sure you have seen just how... hostile monsterkind can be. If you are killed enough times, you will begin to forget who you ever were. Is that what you want? All for the sake of ferrying souls?