[Seasonal Event] won't stay quiet

KIADA you kneel and say your prayers with shaking hands and a mouth full of metal but the blood in your mouth tastes nothing She stares and she takes the retort from Melita, stone faced as she listens to what Melita experienced, watching the fiery girl express herself and her anger, her frustration at Kiada for saving him. She doesn’t reply at first, instead, letting each word hit her and settle like a rock at the bottom of a pond – biding and waiting her time to speak. And it isn’t until Melita begins to lean toward her after speaking of Ampere revived and attacking her children, of the monsters that hunted them day and night that Kiada knew all too well. For a moment, she remembered the Magnus Metus, it’s clawed fingers and eyeless eyes that sought any who dared to step into it’s grasp. And the land around it that seemed to make it a necessary task to fall into its grasp. She thought of that small child she had protected, the one who had been dared to reach forth and meet the Metus the same day Kiada came prepared with fire and armor and weapons. For a moment, she hoped that child was okay, wherever she was. But they all weren’t okay. So she lets Melita speak her frustrations and anger, and lets her pelt the Harpy with whatever harsh words she chooses. And Kiada doesn’t mind, because it has all happened in what seems like forever ago. There’s no room for change, for returning and changing how things happened. Things simply were. But she nods to the girl, to Melita the daughter of Ampere of lightning and flame. “I’m sorry Melita.” She says, and it’s truthful. She has no need to lie about it, to cover up her transgressions. The Harpy realizes her mistakes yet is unable to fix them. And despite Melita’s harsh words of wishing the world had died with all of them in it, with their gods, does little to hurt the woman. Because even if Melita wished it had happened, Kiada had never wanted to die. She’s proud of the fact she prevented so many from dying, so many that hadn’t even come from the Rift. What was the excuse to have them die too for things that the Helovian’s could prevent in whatever way they could? Standing away from the flowers now that they had been planted, she lowers her head to Melita in a quiet farewell, hoping perhaps one day they could get past the pain of history and the dark smear painted against her person, and perhaps one day they might be friends. "I will leave you." nothing, like holy wine as it drips from your tongue during confession and your hail mary feels h o l l o w in the face of all that r e d