[He was helping people -- an important distinction. Pleased as it may make him when someone speaks well of his craft, Carlisle can't help but be a little sour on it at the moment, given what he's done both in Anchor and in Bear Den. Healing may have been his natural calling, but his gift for it has backfired in a horrific way. He can't prove it -- even if he returned to Bear Den, everyone he could possibly ask about what truly happened to the town would still be long gone -- but why else would the Blight Heir be able to raise those around him into undeath unless he had the capacity for necrotic arts when alive? Healing and necromancy were two sides of a coin, opposing uses of the same energy.]

There is nothing wrong with being a healer. The problem is that I was a healer, much to my father's dismay. It was not what he had hoped for the only heir of our bloodline.

[Maybe his father was right: he would have been better off honing a different skill, any skill. At least then, maybe things would have been better once he passed, his Revenant being far less of an abom—

Carlisle shakes his head, knowing he will never assuage that guilt, and unsure if he'll ever learn to accept what he is now -- what he's become. It's difficult when he hardly sees himself as a person anymore, but he has to try. He owes those who still have some faith in him -- Genji included -- that much.]