S E I J I
The depth of her sorrow seeps into him from across the distance between them. Seiji had not intended — but it hardly matters. He has repaid her kindness by opening old wounds. He can do no more than feel terrible for the transgression. What, after all, is there to say? He barely knows her. Only knows they have this single thing in common, this solitude. It unites them against the rest of this place, but it also makes the loneliness of their separate situations all the more palpable.
Eventually, Kiada lifts from the fog of sadness. She speaks of a spire, and Seiji immediately finds himself listening. Rapt. Curious. "Spire?" he repeats. In his mind's eye, he pictures them: vultures and hawks, fierce birds spiraling against a waning winter sun. Magic. "I have not seen it," Seiji answers. He shifts his weight as if preparing to run off this very moment. "I will go look."
The depth of her sorrow seeps into him from across the distance between them. Seiji had not intended — but it hardly matters. He has repaid her kindness by opening old wounds. He can do no more than feel terrible for the transgression. What, after all, is there to say? He barely knows her. Only knows they have this single thing in common, this solitude. It unites them against the rest of this place, but it also makes the loneliness of their separate situations all the more palpable.
Eventually, Kiada lifts from the fog of sadness. She speaks of a spire, and Seiji immediately finds himself listening. Rapt. Curious. "Spire?" he repeats. In his mind's eye, he pictures them: vultures and hawks, fierce birds spiraling against a waning winter sun. Magic. "I have not seen it," Seiji answers. He shifts his weight as if preparing to run off this very moment. "I will go look."
The rain is full
of ghosts tonight
of ghosts tonight
