Werifesteria was not something that Jean thought about much. It wasn't something that he did much.
But, sometimes, he needed to be alone.
Like after they burned Marco's body.
Jean wanted to be alone, and he wandered off. He reached the forest, and carefully removed his 3DMG before placing it gently on the ground, and starting into the forest.
The stars disappeared above the treetops, and the trunks of the trees seemed nearly inviting as they swallowed him in darkness. Jean had always felt like a nyctophiliac. He loved darkness when there was nothing to see, nothing to cause worry. Nothing to be sad about.
But, the darkness here felt different. Something could… attack him. But, he was trying hard not to think about that.
He wandered deeper into the woods, searching for something that not even Jean could put his finger on.
Forgiveness, maybe? Was Marco's death really his fault? Did it make sense that Jean violently blamed himself for it? Jean wasn't there… he couldn't have done anything. But, this was precisely why it was seemingly his fault. He wasn't there. He couldn't do anything, because he wasn't there.
And, now… he couldn't do anything anyway.
But… forgiveness didn't seem quite right. What he was looking for was different than forgiveness. Jean still wanted it, but that wasn't what he needed right now.
Care… maybe? Did Jean seriously need care right now? No. He wanted to be alone.
Maybe… Jean just needed to walk off his horrible case of werifesteria. His beautiful case of werifesteria.
Because…. Marco was Jean's werifesteria. And Jean was the wanderer.