[This is -- an alarming message to find upon opening an alert for a new post on the network. And while he doesn't actually know this guy, or what exactly he's talking about, he finds he can relate uncomfortably well to the words. After all, haven't there been times, in his deepest and darkest moments, in which he's wondered if his loved ones--if the world wouldn't be better off without a miserable cursed existence like his own? Like I was always feared to be rings in his mind, familiar enough to be his own.

Perhaps he is overstepping, but he can't help but want to try to reach out, the way Ozpin did for him, long ago.]

...It could make it worse, you know. Throwing yourself into the sea over and over. In Deerington, each time you died had worse and worse consequences. You don't know that dying repeatedly here won't strip you of the parts of you that want people to be safe.

[Silence lingers for some moments, before he lets out a sigh, bone deep weariness exhaled with his breath.]

Whatever happened, it's not worth it.