CHULANE
Can you hear it echoing?
Take my hand
Take my hand
Talk of her quest stirred him from the depths of the spiral his mind had taken, caused him to lift his gaze, to seek out Deimos with his focus, to agree wholeheartedly. "Yes, absolutely, I-" the words stumbled over each other, and he took a steadying breath. "She told me, about Ru'in. About his soul. I was going to train, to be stronger, to help her, next LongNight." They discussed it, he'd promised (gods, but he'd promised) to help, to assist, and they were determined to succeed, to release Ru'in's soul from the grips of the monsters, to return it to Mort.
Was that where Kia was, now? Wandering Mort's halls, alone (did souls wander?), without a familiar face (did souls have faces?) to anchor her, to steady her, to ensure that even in the afterlife, she was safe, whole, waiting for them to join her. "If it's at all possible, if Ludo would consider it… I want to be a part of it." He was earnest in his declaration, knowing what it meant - his commitment in Halo, to set them up throughout Deepfrost, would have to survive without him. And he was confident that it would.
He was somewhat surprised at Deimos' gratitude, feeling insufficient, inadequate, and otherwise utterly unworthy of it. He deserved none of it, when all he had to offer was himself - his weak, incapable self.
Another bleat from Auni, another nudge. Sorry, he thought to the creature, grateful as ever for the luxere's ability to tug him from his spirals, apologetic that he kept entering the swirling whirlpool of dark thoughts again and again after what the beast had just endured. "We will survive." An echo, a resonant and determined declaration, a promise made - they would survive, they would endure, through the heartache, the loss, the grief.
Was that where Kia was, now? Wandering Mort's halls, alone (did souls wander?), without a familiar face (did souls have faces?) to anchor her, to steady her, to ensure that even in the afterlife, she was safe, whole, waiting for them to join her. "If it's at all possible, if Ludo would consider it… I want to be a part of it." He was earnest in his declaration, knowing what it meant - his commitment in Halo, to set them up throughout Deepfrost, would have to survive without him. And he was confident that it would.
He was somewhat surprised at Deimos' gratitude, feeling insufficient, inadequate, and otherwise utterly unworthy of it. He deserved none of it, when all he had to offer was himself - his weak, incapable self.
Another bleat from Auni, another nudge. Sorry, he thought to the creature, grateful as ever for the luxere's ability to tug him from his spirals, apologetic that he kept entering the swirling whirlpool of dark thoughts again and again after what the beast had just endured. "We will survive." An echo, a resonant and determined declaration, a promise made - they would survive, they would endure, through the heartache, the loss, the grief.
All the stars we steal from the nightsky
Will never be enough
Will never be enough
