His understanding is both a soothing balm and a prickling thorn, because he may have lost his magic but he does not understand the gravitas that it holds in Caido. But his sympathy is appreciated, and her clenched jaw releases, shoulders inverting like a shy bird as her gaze leaves his. "There's little we can do to sway the minds of Gods," she murmurs instead, the remainder left unsaid that perhaps they should not even try. Evie had certainly prayed enough in her youth, desperate to be changed, to know that they did not care about fixing her. That they would rather lose a disciple to fate's cruel hand than earn a devoted follower in lifting them up from the mire of being Abandoned.
It's easier to drown her thoughts out in the motions of healing. The soft feathers glossy and slick beneath her fingers, the sensation of repairing muscle and tendons, of giving structure and healing to a creature in need. Though it has yet to fail her when she calls upon it, Evie is still grateful that her magic works as needed. But her attention diverts temporarily at the stuttering words from Jigano, afraid he sees something going south, but his words are unfinished and uncertain. She watches him just as uncertainly as his own fingers search for the break, and they both jerk when his magic reaches out to heal the remaining fracture, Evie feeling it like static in the air. A familiar sensation, but one she has not experienced since Peter's little water show.
The raven departs in a flurry of ruffled feathers and Evie stares after it for a moment before turning her bewildered gaze to Jigano. And there in his face she sees herself during LongNight, completely taken aback by the new magic she had found herself in control of. One hand lifts to touch the top of his if he will let her, and sympathy warms her face. "It seems you may have had that particular skill returned," she notes softly.
It's easier to drown her thoughts out in the motions of healing. The soft feathers glossy and slick beneath her fingers, the sensation of repairing muscle and tendons, of giving structure and healing to a creature in need. Though it has yet to fail her when she calls upon it, Evie is still grateful that her magic works as needed. But her attention diverts temporarily at the stuttering words from Jigano, afraid he sees something going south, but his words are unfinished and uncertain. She watches him just as uncertainly as his own fingers search for the break, and they both jerk when his magic reaches out to heal the remaining fracture, Evie feeling it like static in the air. A familiar sensation, but one she has not experienced since Peter's little water show.
The raven departs in a flurry of ruffled feathers and Evie stares after it for a moment before turning her bewildered gaze to Jigano. And there in his face she sees herself during LongNight, completely taken aback by the new magic she had found herself in control of. One hand lifts to touch the top of his if he will let her, and sympathy warms her face. "It seems you may have had that particular skill returned," she notes softly.
