They were both so much less than what they had been. Diminished. Fading. Their light was masked now by paralyzing weariness and vicious rage, grief like a waterfall interspersed with increasingly scarcer hours of dulled emotions that at least allowed a semblance of function. Jigano regretted what he saw in Kiada, but even more he feared that he would soon be joining her in that state of deep ennui, broken only by flashes of incandescent temper, a wildfire blaze of violent emotion that only served to lash out at and wound those around him.
At least Kiada's temper was temporarily banked and she let him speak without the wicked words and snarling accusations that he had become all too familiar with falling from his own lips. The puppet show was a moment of brightness for them both, a shared triumph that even now could only bring the ghost of a smile to their lips, but it was better than nothing. "No one could have done better," he murmured, surprised but pleased that she had pieced the god's antics and mannerisms together from stories alone. It spoke highly of her creativity and the bright mind that lay beneath the weight of the blight.
The eyes that met his were dark and growing darker by the day, but he was glad that she turned to him, tilting his head in silent encouragement. An answered prayer to a the soul guide, the god of death... it was certainly the season for it. He nodded slowly, looking down at his shaking hands with a wry almost-smile as he remembered his own last prayer to Ludo. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, voice gentle in spite of the weariness beneath it. Shrine visits could be intensely personal things, as well he knew. Curious though he was, he would not pry without permission if it had been a painful experience for her.
At least Kiada's temper was temporarily banked and she let him speak without the wicked words and snarling accusations that he had become all too familiar with falling from his own lips. The puppet show was a moment of brightness for them both, a shared triumph that even now could only bring the ghost of a smile to their lips, but it was better than nothing. "No one could have done better," he murmured, surprised but pleased that she had pieced the god's antics and mannerisms together from stories alone. It spoke highly of her creativity and the bright mind that lay beneath the weight of the blight.
The eyes that met his were dark and growing darker by the day, but he was glad that she turned to him, tilting his head in silent encouragement. An answered prayer to a the soul guide, the god of death... it was certainly the season for it. He nodded slowly, looking down at his shaking hands with a wry almost-smile as he remembered his own last prayer to Ludo. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, voice gentle in spite of the weariness beneath it. Shrine visits could be intensely personal things, as well he knew. Curious though he was, he would not pry without permission if it had been a painful experience for her.
