in tenebris est veritas.
Chaele glances toward Remi, still stalling, but pauses in surprise at his soft tone and curious eyes. She has almost resolved to do the thing, but then she looks again in the demi-god’s direction as he seems to double. Muscles and mind falter together with a few private blinks, followed by a careful, narrow exhalation. The masked shaman is left scrambling, quietly collecting the pieces of herself beneath a pair of divine gazes.
Because that must be what he is, to speak of the seraph with such familiarity-- the second man was not as alien as the first, but even his mussed hair and shadowed chin held something uncanny in their airs. The mortal among them is not amused. Her fingers stiffen around the tangle of yellowed yarn between them, from which still hangs the little bone effigy. It bobs idly at her side, content not to burn with her.
“I am not a toy to be trifled with,” are the first words that come to mind, confusion clear in the guarded slope of her shoulders. The rage of embarrassment seethes behind her teeth, clenched against other words until they burn out on her tongue. Instead, though she can probably guess the answer, she adds tightly, “Who are you?”
Because that must be what he is, to speak of the seraph with such familiarity-- the second man was not as alien as the first, but even his mussed hair and shadowed chin held something uncanny in their airs. The mortal among them is not amused. Her fingers stiffen around the tangle of yellowed yarn between them, from which still hangs the little bone effigy. It bobs idly at her side, content not to burn with her.
“I am not a toy to be trifled with,” are the first words that come to mind, confusion clear in the guarded slope of her shoulders. The rage of embarrassment seethes behind her teeth, clenched against other words until they burn out on her tongue. Instead, though she can probably guess the answer, she adds tightly, “Who are you?”
