the VOICE
Last time there had been lightning and dramatics. Last time she had been there to make an impression. This time, though? The objects gently ease themselves out of Nate's fingers as if of their own accord, swirling and circling somewhere above the demigod.
"I never doubted that you would, bright one." The hollow of the tree pulses with electric blue light, and the Voice materialises before it. Static and ethereal, she shouldn't feel as solid as she does, but that will nonetheless be the case as she steps forward to cup his cheeks in her palms.
"So troubled, Nate," she murmurs. "Always such weight upon your shoulders. Sit, tell me, while we restore your sight to what it ought to be," she suggests.
"I never doubted that you would, bright one." The hollow of the tree pulses with electric blue light, and the Voice materialises before it. Static and ethereal, she shouldn't feel as solid as she does, but that will nonetheless be the case as she steps forward to cup his cheeks in her palms.
"So troubled, Nate," she murmurs. "Always such weight upon your shoulders. Sit, tell me, while we restore your sight to what it ought to be," she suggests.
