ISKRA
"Hmm, maybe something to think about if the other results are dead ends," he considers, attention leaving Astaroth and his goddess for now. "Probably best to take it one step at a time anyhow, in case that's the only one we end up needing." He doesn't pretend to know how the divine work amidst each other, or what tempers and histories they all have with one another, but he suspects they're more human about it all than they'd admit, in which case asking for help is a thing best done carefully and one god at a time.
Melita quiets and curls in a way he doesn't recognize. A glimpse of similarity worn amid lightning storms only, but even then she'd quickly shove it off, frustration snapping her back rather than this cloistering. He doesn't mistake it for her sinking into his reassurance, the buzz still there beneath the surface. His hand squeezes again before lowering to find her hand. "Stay with me Mel," he murmurs, leaning in towards her. "You're getting quiet on me."
Melita quiets and curls in a way he doesn't recognize. A glimpse of similarity worn amid lightning storms only, but even then she'd quickly shove it off, frustration snapping her back rather than this cloistering. He doesn't mistake it for her sinking into his reassurance, the buzz still there beneath the surface. His hand squeezes again before lowering to find her hand. "Stay with me Mel," he murmurs, leaning in towards her. "You're getting quiet on me."
Never caught a feelin' this hard — harder than the liquor I pour
