['Created incomplete.' The Fool has spent most of his life walking a path that he trusts will lead him in the right direction, relying on hints given to him in vague, stylized dreams and spinning riddles to his compatriots because those riddles were as close as he could get to offering them clear explanation. He's made it his life's work to inhabit a space 'in between'; between the world that is, and the world that is meant to be. Making sense of the insensible is sort of his shtick--but this? Well.]

I don't think I understand, [he admits after a lengthy pause, smiling uncertainly.] You mean to say you were born--wounded?