Arialla let out an embarrassed laugh. She hadn't expected Amalia to figure that out so easily. While she still didn't want to incriminate Jigano -- light as the crime might be -- she wasn't exactly a good liar. "It ... might have been."
The things they love ... Not the people they love, but Arialla understood. Gods weren't people; they couldn't be expected to see mortals as equals or have mutual relationships with them, the way one mortal might with another. Arialla was used to that idea.
"I ..." Arialla had told herself that she wouldn't accept any discouragement, even if it once again came from one of the people who ought to know best -- first Jigano, who had at least left open the possibility that they might one day discover such a way, even if Arialla had sensed that he did so more out of pity than true belief; and now Amalia. Taking a deep breath, Arialla tried to find a balance between hope and realism. "So I've been told. But ... I have to try. I have to at least ask. I don't know what else I'd do with myself."
The things they love ... Not the people they love, but Arialla understood. Gods weren't people; they couldn't be expected to see mortals as equals or have mutual relationships with them, the way one mortal might with another. Arialla was used to that idea.
"I ..." Arialla had told herself that she wouldn't accept any discouragement, even if it once again came from one of the people who ought to know best -- first Jigano, who had at least left open the possibility that they might one day discover such a way, even if Arialla had sensed that he did so more out of pity than true belief; and now Amalia. Taking a deep breath, Arialla tried to find a balance between hope and realism. "So I've been told. But ... I have to try. I have to at least ask. I don't know what else I'd do with myself."
