in tenebris est veritas.
Chaele’s dark eyebrows press low within the orbital holes of their mask, gazing up at the dripping wet woman in mild disbelief. They do not thank her, but they do take a moment to stare at the smooth, striped stone in scrutiny of its origins. Of all the stones that surely tumble in the undertow of this tiny bay, had this woman actually found the exact same one again?
They reach out and retrieve the stone in a lazy, sweeping motion. That’s one way to make luck.
“Perhaps that is what rituals are. Luck being molded with intention. Superstitions averted by preparation.” The words fall somewhere between defeat and triumph, their mind changed and requiring reflection. Their gaze is drawn to the stone in her hand once more, its ritual interrupted and restored. “What are your rituals, then, if not to throw rocks in pools? I cannot imagine spirits are particularly dissuaded by insults.” Their voice dips with the tone of a wry grin.
They reach out and retrieve the stone in a lazy, sweeping motion. That’s one way to make luck.
“Perhaps that is what rituals are. Luck being molded with intention. Superstitions averted by preparation.” The words fall somewhere between defeat and triumph, their mind changed and requiring reflection. Their gaze is drawn to the stone in her hand once more, its ritual interrupted and restored. “What are your rituals, then, if not to throw rocks in pools? I cannot imagine spirits are particularly dissuaded by insults.” Their voice dips with the tone of a wry grin.
