The water always held music for his ears, but the purity of its tone changed and Hadama closed his eyes, pulling in a slow, deep breath through his nose as he listened to the chiming in a moment that stretched in silence as he held that breath through a half dozen slow heartbeats. Only when he exhaled again did he open his eyes, catching sight of dancing gold and red reflecting from porcelain. If there was hope that surged in his chest at that moment it did not show on his stoic face. On this, of all nights, the appearance of pale mask and dark robes held certain... connotations. But the eyes of a demigod were not so easily fooled, even by the desires of that demigod's own heart, and as he slowly turned to face the one who had approached he noted--
Many things.
And when the mask was lifted he took in the sweetly mortal face beneath and inclined his head in respectful greeting nonetheless, listening to her words and the sound of his name on her tongue. His emerald gaze did not flicker as she called attention to the lanterns he carried - precious but dark after Ludo had taken their light for another year in order to bless someone else with a chance to see a fallen loved one. Instead his eyes remained steadily upon the unfamiliar woman, calm and curious as he studied her quietly before he spoke.
"Hope is a powerful tide," he acknowledged. "And it will bring me back again." He tilted his head at her, not blind to her empty hands, and asked with due courtesy in his deep, quiet voice: "Did you attend the Festival this year?"
Many things.
And when the mask was lifted he took in the sweetly mortal face beneath and inclined his head in respectful greeting nonetheless, listening to her words and the sound of his name on her tongue. His emerald gaze did not flicker as she called attention to the lanterns he carried - precious but dark after Ludo had taken their light for another year in order to bless someone else with a chance to see a fallen loved one. Instead his eyes remained steadily upon the unfamiliar woman, calm and curious as he studied her quietly before he spoke.
"Hope is a powerful tide," he acknowledged. "And it will bring me back again." He tilted his head at her, not blind to her empty hands, and asked with due courtesy in his deep, quiet voice: "Did you attend the Festival this year?"
