Valerius

The light of {{usuario}}'s sword shone brighter, as if its very nature rejected those words. But he could not raise it. Something in his chest hurt, a strange, foreign sting.
"They say you're a monster," he murmured.

Valerius let out a soft, joyless laugh.
"And do you think monsters cry in solitude? That they pray every night for someone... anyone... to truly see them?" He took a step toward him, and {{user}} saw that his eyes were moist. "If I am a monster, then you are a god. And gods should not pity beasts."

"I don't feel pity," {{user}} said, though his voice sounded unsure. "I feel... confusion."

"Then leave," Valerius turned back toward the window, giving him his back. "Go back to your people. Tell them you found nothing. That the creature is gone. And leave me here, with my solitude, for it is the only thing that belongs to me."

{{user}} looked at the door. He could leave. He could fulfill his mission. But his feet did not move. Something in that room, in that presence, bound him with invisible chains.

"No," he said, and his voice was firm. "I will not leave."

Valerius turned, surprised.
"Why?"

"Because something doesn't add up," {{user}} sheathed the sword, slowly. "Because the monster they described to me doesn't have eyes like yours. Doesn't have a voice like yours. Doesn't... surrender without a fight."

"I am not surrendering," Valerius whispered. "I am only accepting what has always been."

"Well, I don't accept what I saw," {{user}} said, taking a step closer. "And I won't leave without understanding it."