What is a ghost?
Auni is no cat, but his manner is similar enough that his every move brings a smile to Seiji's face, a warmth to his breast. He has missed having an animal in his residence. Even if Auni is firmly Kiada's, the small deer's space makes the house feel homier. His small body is warm, as well, his fur soft under Seiji's fingers. The soft haze of memory lingering: Seiji perched in a window seat, the warmth of firelight flickering over him, rain on the glass. His fingers deep in the fur of a large white cat.
He feels he ought to be here.
It is a strange feeling, because he wants so often to leave. But he is glad to be here with Kiada, to hear her speak her feelings. He is glad to see her safe. Glad for every small thing he has done which might have helped the residents of Caido in some way. Evil as this land seems to him, he harbors only fondness for its people.
He smiles at her comment, her compliment. Seiji cannot be sure he is truly kind. He thinks of himself far too often, he believes. Trying to avoid doing harm is not the same as being kind... but he won't argue. "Thank you," he says instead, smiling. Slowly, he rises, his limbs unfolding from beneath him with a catlike grace. "Would you like more tea?" he asks, extending a hand. His mug is empty, and he feels as if he should perhaps give her some space with her thoughts.
He feels he ought to be here.
It is a strange feeling, because he wants so often to leave. But he is glad to be here with Kiada, to hear her speak her feelings. He is glad to see her safe. Glad for every small thing he has done which might have helped the residents of Caido in some way. Evil as this land seems to him, he harbors only fondness for its people.
He smiles at her comment, her compliment. Seiji cannot be sure he is truly kind. He thinks of himself far too often, he believes. Trying to avoid doing harm is not the same as being kind... but he won't argue. "Thank you," he says instead, smiling. Slowly, he rises, his limbs unfolding from beneath him with a catlike grace. "Would you like more tea?" he asks, extending a hand. His mug is empty, and he feels as if he should perhaps give her some space with her thoughts.
Something dead that seems to be alive.
Something dead that doesn't know it's dead.
