Should have pounded against his thoughts and twisted through his mind, sharp as any knife and he winced at hearing the words. He let his hand linger a little longer, but when it became clear she would not take it he withdrew it slowly, curling his trembling fingers against his chest, pressing them there to try and still their shaking. What could he say that would not be empty platitude? Melita deserved better than that, but her words were a refrain, an anthem that pounded through the bard's blood and hissed in a trio of mocking voices as familiar as his own. He shook his head mutely, denying that she could have done better than she had; it was hard to think of the honeybee girl doing anything with less than everything she had, whether fighting or working or having fun, and certainly she would have protected her loved ones to the best of her ability.
But of course, one's best wasn't always good enough, was it?
There was fire in her voice when she spoke again, but not the bright flame of the midday sun. No, this was a sullen ember just waiting to burn the unwary hand that stirred the ashes. Still, it was not as though the bard would turn away her question, however challenging the tone. Just as he had sought distraction from his own grief, perhaps it would help her, too.
"For Isla and for 108," he said quietly. "Isla was my friend and Isuma's godmother. 108 was... not a friend, but a mentor of sorts, and they gave their life so that the barrier would fall. And one for Edy, of course..." No lantern for the lives lost upon another world, friendships severed, family ties cut. In truth he could not bear to see their shades here upon the soil of Caido, not true souls but merely the illusions of memories plucked from his heart by Ludo's arts. No, they had died in Numeria, their souls traveling to Pharasma's embrace and the afterlife their actions had earned them. He had once assumed that when he died he would join them, but now...
But of course, one's best wasn't always good enough, was it?
There was fire in her voice when she spoke again, but not the bright flame of the midday sun. No, this was a sullen ember just waiting to burn the unwary hand that stirred the ashes. Still, it was not as though the bard would turn away her question, however challenging the tone. Just as he had sought distraction from his own grief, perhaps it would help her, too.
"For Isla and for 108," he said quietly. "Isla was my friend and Isuma's godmother. 108 was... not a friend, but a mentor of sorts, and they gave their life so that the barrier would fall. And one for Edy, of course..." No lantern for the lives lost upon another world, friendships severed, family ties cut. In truth he could not bear to see their shades here upon the soil of Caido, not true souls but merely the illusions of memories plucked from his heart by Ludo's arts. No, they had died in Numeria, their souls traveling to Pharasma's embrace and the afterlife their actions had earned them. He had once assumed that when he died he would join them, but now...
