"Outsiders," Elidibus murmurs. Or... not? Well whatever the origin of the perpetrator, he is curious about whether it's a singular or multitude. "More than one?" It's something he manages to retain the presence enough to ask. A soft noise escapes his throat; a sharp exhalation from the experience of discomfort which is going much deeper than the physical vessel he resides in. His fingers then wrap around the palms of the statue's hands, making certain he will not flinch back.

His answer comes with assurance, "You have my permission. I am no stranger to pain." Old pain. Recent pain. It comes with the feeling of grief. With a mimicry of the Ascian's aether as the conduit, it may even come with flashes of memory. A rain of fire in the sky. Suffering near total dissolution as something tore energies out of his being. Elidibus would endure in the face of a need for this vital information.

But he knows it will be harsh and thus there will also be the impression that he braces himself for what's to come.