[strangely, this question seems to send francel into a panic, though why he should be so perturbed is hard to say. he brings a clawed hand to his mouth as though he might be sick.]

I don't... I don't know. I don't want to go back home. I — I can't —

[francel's eyes look almost sky blue in the odd light, though their natural color hews closer to navy, deep and dark as the night sky; they gleam, suddenly, wet with tears. the long-eared man blinks, taking a deep breath in what seems to be an effort to calm himself. as discreetly as he can manage, the elezen wipes his eyes on the back of his hand.]

...I'm sorry. [he breathes, after a moment, the edges of panic lost from his voice.] I don't know where to go. Not anymore.

[he shakes his head.]

...Many of the homes here are empty. Might I... that is, if you would not be troubled, might I ask you to help me find a new home? The hour grows late, and I fear some might feel stirred by the light of the moon. It wouldn't do to run into a burglar of some sort...