He managed a wan, almost-smile for Kiada as the alcohol was brought around, and once the tale was done he took his glass in hand and tossed it back with the ease of long practice—
Or it would have been ease, had the gas not left his throat raw and wounded. He hissed, grimacing as the alcohol burned against skin still stinging from the poison, but it was a welcome pain, reminding him that he was alive – they all were – when the price of the day could have been so much steeper. Then again, a goddess fallen into stardust was steeper than he had ever expected.
Amalia’s voice was a welcome reprieve, even as Isuma looked up at the baker with worried golden eyes. Certainty filled her quiet words, a belief that put the Oracle to shame as he bowed his head and Deimos answered for them all. ”You had to try,” he added gently. ”We all did. We could not leave a creature suffering in darkness down there, alone and forgotten…” He hesitated, looking around the table, and then reaching for the bottle Kiada had brought, pouring another round in each of their glasses. ”And neither could Safrin,” he added his voice managing to soften further. ”She knew what she was doing. She could have stopped, if she did not believe it worth doing. Whatever price she paid… she chose to pay it, Amalia. As you and Kiada chose to come with me to the Greatwood.” A gentle reminder of the guilt he carried over what had happened to her, that she had absolved him from. ”And as the Tulmhainar chose to let herself fade, rather than endure the darkness any longer.”
There was more, the gears of his mind slipping and catching doggedly again after hours of shocked numbness and mechanical reactions, but for the moment he swallowed them back along with the alcohol – grain alcohol? Potato? Fuck it, all the mattered was how strong it was, and it certainly tasted highly flammable – and let his worry and care for the people around the table pulse slow and steady through the Attuned bond, even if Deimos couldn’t feel it.
Or it would have been ease, had the gas not left his throat raw and wounded. He hissed, grimacing as the alcohol burned against skin still stinging from the poison, but it was a welcome pain, reminding him that he was alive – they all were – when the price of the day could have been so much steeper. Then again, a goddess fallen into stardust was steeper than he had ever expected.
Amalia’s voice was a welcome reprieve, even as Isuma looked up at the baker with worried golden eyes. Certainty filled her quiet words, a belief that put the Oracle to shame as he bowed his head and Deimos answered for them all. ”You had to try,” he added gently. ”We all did. We could not leave a creature suffering in darkness down there, alone and forgotten…” He hesitated, looking around the table, and then reaching for the bottle Kiada had brought, pouring another round in each of their glasses. ”And neither could Safrin,” he added his voice managing to soften further. ”She knew what she was doing. She could have stopped, if she did not believe it worth doing. Whatever price she paid… she chose to pay it, Amalia. As you and Kiada chose to come with me to the Greatwood.” A gentle reminder of the guilt he carried over what had happened to her, that she had absolved him from. ”And as the Tulmhainar chose to let herself fade, rather than endure the darkness any longer.”
There was more, the gears of his mind slipping and catching doggedly again after hours of shocked numbness and mechanical reactions, but for the moment he swallowed them back along with the alcohol – grain alcohol? Potato? Fuck it, all the mattered was how strong it was, and it certainly tasted highly flammable – and let his worry and care for the people around the table pulse slow and steady through the Attuned bond, even if Deimos couldn’t feel it.
