S E I J I
She describes her magic in such a way — pulled at it — and something inside him flinches in response. A memory, brief and bright, like wings passing overhead. He almost grasps it, but then it’s gone. And Seiji is left standing here in the dark and the cold, a burgeoning emptiness in his chest. He blinks back something — some heavy emotion — and shakes his head to clear it.
Seiji is glad for the change in subject, though he still wonders at the depths of this woman’s kindness. If she has so many empty rooms, why not invite anyone else? Unless he’s the first she came across? But no — that can’t be right. He can’t be sure if that’s a hint of embarrassment he catches on her face or something else as Kiada turns away. Seiji merely nods again, his thoughts too scattered to clearly parse. “Safety in numbers?” he says, repeating something someone must have told him a long time ago.
She begins to move away, and Seiji follows after one last glance at the darkness of the spire. Something cold brushes his forehead, and he looks up to see snow falling. A good night to be indoors with a friend.
As Kiada said, her home isn’t far, though Seiji finds he’s glad for even the small amount of movement. The tips of his fingers and most of his toes are going numb despite the furs Kiada lent him. The bare skin of his face stings, too, though he tries not to make his discomfort obvious. He’ll be inside soon enough.
As they pause outside the door, Seiji gazes up at the building’s facade. “Was this already here? You didn't build it?” he wonders aloud. Everything ruins, left behind as if by some great, ancient disaster. A war, maybe. He isn’t sure why his thoughts go there, but they do. Then he notices Kiada standing to the side of the doorway, waiting. With a grateful nod, he hurries inside.
Seiji does not expect it to be luxurious, and it isn’t, but there is a roof. Strong walls. The low glow of an oil lamp on old wood and aged floors. “Better in here,” Seiji breathes, meaning warmer. He chafes his hands together as he steps inside, pausing after a few steps to glance at Kiada. Hopefully, she will lead in the proper etiquette. He isn’t sure if he ought to remove his shoes or not — they are a bit wet — and whether he ought to explore or wait for her. He feels a vague sense of unease as he blinks at the darkened corners in the farthest ends of the front room, again the echoing sensation of age around him. All of Caido a ruin. Like living in the mouth of a corpse.
She describes her magic in such a way — pulled at it — and something inside him flinches in response. A memory, brief and bright, like wings passing overhead. He almost grasps it, but then it’s gone. And Seiji is left standing here in the dark and the cold, a burgeoning emptiness in his chest. He blinks back something — some heavy emotion — and shakes his head to clear it.
Seiji is glad for the change in subject, though he still wonders at the depths of this woman’s kindness. If she has so many empty rooms, why not invite anyone else? Unless he’s the first she came across? But no — that can’t be right. He can’t be sure if that’s a hint of embarrassment he catches on her face or something else as Kiada turns away. Seiji merely nods again, his thoughts too scattered to clearly parse. “Safety in numbers?” he says, repeating something someone must have told him a long time ago.
She begins to move away, and Seiji follows after one last glance at the darkness of the spire. Something cold brushes his forehead, and he looks up to see snow falling. A good night to be indoors with a friend.
As Kiada said, her home isn’t far, though Seiji finds he’s glad for even the small amount of movement. The tips of his fingers and most of his toes are going numb despite the furs Kiada lent him. The bare skin of his face stings, too, though he tries not to make his discomfort obvious. He’ll be inside soon enough.
As they pause outside the door, Seiji gazes up at the building’s facade. “Was this already here? You didn't build it?” he wonders aloud. Everything ruins, left behind as if by some great, ancient disaster. A war, maybe. He isn’t sure why his thoughts go there, but they do. Then he notices Kiada standing to the side of the doorway, waiting. With a grateful nod, he hurries inside.
Seiji does not expect it to be luxurious, and it isn’t, but there is a roof. Strong walls. The low glow of an oil lamp on old wood and aged floors. “Better in here,” Seiji breathes, meaning warmer. He chafes his hands together as he steps inside, pausing after a few steps to glance at Kiada. Hopefully, she will lead in the proper etiquette. He isn’t sure if he ought to remove his shoes or not — they are a bit wet — and whether he ought to explore or wait for her. He feels a vague sense of unease as he blinks at the darkened corners in the farthest ends of the front room, again the echoing sensation of age around him. All of Caido a ruin. Like living in the mouth of a corpse.
The rain is full
of ghosts tonight
of ghosts tonight
