He wants to pretend the slip didn't happen. He could do that, in Avalir; some people noticed when his gaze turned hollow and distant, but then it would pass and no one had to deal with it, especially him.

The Barge demands rather more from him, and that's fair; it's a better place, overall.

Zerxus closes his eyes and focuses on the crackling of the fire, on the whispers still haunting his dreams. "I'm afraid of the future I know I just got a taste of. I'm afraid of failing the people I've sworn to protect, all over again, because I'm not strong enough to handle it."

It's inevitable, that he'll be a weapon aimed at whatever is left of Exandria. The Barge, at least, was supposed to be safe.