Phillip has clearly missed a lot, is missing incredibly large gaps of the story even including what Feo Ul had passed on to Tataru. He wants to know, but at the moment he doesn’t need to. The way Gustavain falls apart in his arms tells him enough.

He doesn’t try to stop it or cheer him up or anything like that; such motions would feel far too hollow, in the face of all this. So offers the only thing he can- his presence, his tight hold around the trembling man, hand in his hair and cradling him as much as he can. He doesn’t push for anything, murmuring soft assurances that he’s here, he’s not going anywhere, he won’t let go, soothing his hands over the other and at least trying to give him some comfort amidst the despair.

Depending on how long they stay there, Phillip may fetch a blanket to wrap around them, a pillow or two when the floor becomes too hard. But before then, there may be a different kind of comfort, of his darkness slipping into those cracks, a gentle press of their contrasting auras not fighting but trying to mend.