[Once he's sitting up, he almost regrets it, but he stays in position for a handful of moments, quiet and silent, getting used to being vertical. This isn't his real body, so the vertigo and exhaustion aren't real; he reminds himself of that, trying to focus on his intention, instead. He doesn't want to lie around. He wants to sit next to her, look at her properly, while he can. God knows he'll likely be flat on his back plenty on the other side, especially since he promised to take it easy.

Okay... so. Here goes.]

I can't promise you that I won't blame myself a bit for this. If I'm not wrong, then I won't learn. You said you were proud of me for asking for help... but would you have felt the need to say it, if it wasn't so rare?

[He makes a lot of mistakes, but he believes wholeheartedly that he's right on this one. There's a lesson to be learned from this, and if he remembers nothing else, he ought to remember at least this.]

I'll... promise to try not to dwell on it, though. Whose fault it is doesn't matter that much- or it shouldn't, at least. I thought I was doing what was best for me, but it wasn't. The Astrals must've thought they were doing what's best for the world.

[Whether it is, or it isn't... well, that isn't really up to him. Maybe there could've been a point before his death where he faltered. Maybe one moment of hesitation could cost someone's life, someone important in another grand scheme of the gods. The future is unknown to him. The past is bound to be important. He doesn't have the energy to be angry right now.

(Maybe later. Maybe there'll come a time when he rages at his fate, where he wants to shout at Bahamut for dropping this unwanted burden on him, one more in an endless, heavy pile. Not now, though. He's tired.)]