Seiji is quiet as the words unfold. His expression is quiet, his dark eyes studious, hungry, as Jigano fills in the gaps in his knowledge. That someone had attacked the demon, had won.... That Ronin had fallen with it... He had wondered. His thoughts turn briefly back to Ronin's kindness in the cold, the worn pack and the slightly oversized coat. Can Seiji truly grieve a stranger? But he does, even if only because the life was carelessly lost. Interests jostling against each other.
And he has seen the way some of the Naturals look at him. Has heard the muttering. He was aware of the commotion, dimly, but he never visited the Spire while it took place. He missed... most of this. Keeping to the house and making necessary repairs. Pretending he might be safe again.
Perhaps he had never been safe.
"I do not know much about these gods," Seiji says at last. But it seems cruel to have trapped so many people in here with the Voice, if she is evil. "Safrin..." Seiji's brows draw together, and he presses the fingertips of one hands against his lips, as if sealing the thought inside. What was he about to say? I do not trust Safrin? Why?
Because doubt nibbles the edges of his thoughts. Doubt, black and noisome and growing. He is not supposed to be here; he was never supposed to come. He does not wish to be involved in wars, in strange gods and stranger religions. He shakes his head, as if dismissing the thought, his dark eyes leaping back up to Jigano's face. He longs to ask the other man what he makes of all this. If he judges it one way or another, or if he holds himself apart, recording the facts and watching. "I am sorry," Seiji adds, "Someone you care for was threatened. Are they well?"
And he has seen the way some of the Naturals look at him. Has heard the muttering. He was aware of the commotion, dimly, but he never visited the Spire while it took place. He missed... most of this. Keeping to the house and making necessary repairs. Pretending he might be safe again.
Perhaps he had never been safe.
"I do not know much about these gods," Seiji says at last. But it seems cruel to have trapped so many people in here with the Voice, if she is evil. "Safrin..." Seiji's brows draw together, and he presses the fingertips of one hands against his lips, as if sealing the thought inside. What was he about to say? I do not trust Safrin? Why?
Because doubt nibbles the edges of his thoughts. Doubt, black and noisome and growing. He is not supposed to be here; he was never supposed to come. He does not wish to be involved in wars, in strange gods and stranger religions. He shakes his head, as if dismissing the thought, his dark eyes leaping back up to Jigano's face. He longs to ask the other man what he makes of all this. If he judges it one way or another, or if he holds himself apart, recording the facts and watching. "I am sorry," Seiji adds, "Someone you care for was threatened. Are they well?"
