the VOICE
”They are everything,” the Voice agrees, though her voice holds a great deal more weight than that of a child helping a father through his grief. Gazing down upon Azrael, she reaches out to run an ethereal finger across their cheek, her smile enigmatic. It fades, however, at Bastien’s request, the Voice clasping his cheeks and causing static to ripple out around them. Slowly, she shakes her head.
”I am not Ludo, bright one,” she explains. ”Whilst I can keep safe the souls of our departed ones, I cannot manipulate them. But she is here - all around us, in a place like this. Say your goodbyes - she will hear them, even if I cannot manifest it for you to see.”
”I am not Ludo, bright one,” she explains. ”Whilst I can keep safe the souls of our departed ones, I cannot manipulate them. But she is here - all around us, in a place like this. Say your goodbyes - she will hear them, even if I cannot manifest it for you to see.”
