Strike the Iron

Caiside This will be your rebirth A smile hovered on Caisides face as he listened to and watched the other man. The way he moved reminded Caiside of dancers, or flickering flames, bright and demanding attention. ”I have to admit, you are good at what you do. You and your goddess will be staying in my mind for some time.” He did feel as if his question isn’t been answered, there had been no explanation of what kind of goddess Safrin was, but he was entertained enough to keep listening. ”The revelry varies between gods, but it is always... a spectacle.” A wistful sigh carried words, Caisides eyes sliding off Bastien for the first time to look dramatically into the distance. ”My own worship was bright, shiny. Sparks and gold.” It was like he could see it before him, the bonfires, the noise. He reached a hand out towards fire and felt nothing but the chill of the air, reality settling softly around him like snow. Sighing, Caiside closed his hand and brought it back in close to his chest. ”I may not be now what I was, but I have some sticks up my sleeve still.” Caiside smiled, taking solace in the few things he did have left. ”This is not about me though. tell me more about your goddess, I don’t... think I understood.” He was almost embarrassed to admit it, but interest won out over pride.