Corvo eyed the area attentively as Yin lead him to a supply room. He stepped forward and began to inspect the new location, pacing slowly, running his fingers along the racks containing an assortment of weaponry and scrolls, causing a small amount of dust to cling to them. He rubs his fingers with his thumb and continues to walk about the area as Yin inquired about his life outside of the village. Memories long forgotten of the time he and Yin would spar gradually began to resurface at the forefront of Corvo's mind like a spring of hot water soothing long wearied muscles; he recalled in particular, on a cold autumn day, of a time in which they had just completed five laps around the entirety of the village. He recounted the feeling of breathlessness the two experienced as they nodded to each other with a fierce tenacity that enveloped their countenance and proceeded to run another lap. Then, as if a storm had cast itself upon his musing and flooded his once warm spring with frigid waters, his memory shifted to that of his later years. He gripped the palm of his left hand with his right, and pressed down on it softly with his right thumb, drawing attention to the bandages he had wrapped around his left hand in order to hide the brand that was placed on him. He continued to move forward and inspect another weapon rack before finally addressing his friend's question. As he does this, he begins to unravel the gauze around his left hand.
I'll answer your question with another one, Yin: Do you believe that we each have a reason to be here, a purpose in life? There was once a time where I believed I did. That I had to protect this village with my life, because at the time it was all I ever knew. Once I began to live outside of these walls, I came to the realization that life isn't so simple. The purpose we find in life is born of an amalgam encompassing our experiences, those of great pleasure, and those of great pain. And Yin...
He turns toward Yin's direction with firm seriousness, pacing toward him, and placing his unbandaged left hand on his dear friend's left shoulder, revealing an ominous foreign brand seared on the top of his left hand; ...it seems as if my purpose as of now bears its fangs in retaliation from experiences of great pain.