the Voice
"Perhaps," she says, though the quietly puzzled inflection is clear: but what benefit would it have? How would it improve you? What would it bring you, other than mindless pleasure? And that in itself might prove to be the stumbling block. She tilts her head to him at the silence that stretches between them, static seeming to jump between her fingers, the strands of her hair. "I am a goddess, bright one. You are an open book to me - I would not recommend seeking from others that which I might provide you, whatever it may be." A warning, perhaps?
"What is it you seek, Nate? You have come to me to tell me of your hardships, to ask questions about the nature of the Ascended - about why you are the way you are. But you have not told me what it is you want, only what you do not want." He has hinted, perhaps, but she does not have the patience for dithering.
"What is it you seek, Nate? You have come to me to tell me of your hardships, to ask questions about the nature of the Ascended - about why you are the way you are. But you have not told me what it is you want, only what you do not want." He has hinted, perhaps, but she does not have the patience for dithering.
