Pity, hm. Syrlya's gaze is drawn back to horizon, toward the distant island.

"Why do they continue to keep the body alive? Is there any hope that the soul can... recover?" He furrows his brow, sounding uncertain even as he says it. It's final, isn't it? Losing one's daemon and one's soul. If all that's left is a lifeless husk, then...

"It practically is death. I suppose they keep it for when they need more violent retribution than execution by blade." Or hanging. That much he can understand, but if it is a form of death, why bother to continue maintaining the flesh that housed their person in some sort of home?