in tenebris est veritas.
She looks incredulously between the two as Ronin steps in front of Remi, enshrouding the latter in the shadow of the former’s blaze. It is easy enough to assume that the first maybe is true: that she has something to fear from the demigod of death, and his counterpart of light has a reason to shield her. Keen ears might detect a breath taken within the privacy of her mask, an inhalation like a futile obstinance followed by a sigh that steadies and subdues her.
“I am Chaele,” she says to the Huntsman, in the spirit of a fresh beginning. Her gaze shifts to his husband as she admits, “It is true that I did not know what I sought to find here. So I must wonder why you both were compelled to this place. What I am meant to learn.”
Then she turns toward the bonfire again, the one that she had come so far to witness and hoped so dearly to make something of. It does not look different from any other fire of similar size, and yet it is meant to contain a power that she is meant to desire. With the hand that does not hold her totem, she reaches gingerly for the heat of it. “You say your work is to guide the dying to peace. Does that mean I am meant to die?”
“I am Chaele,” she says to the Huntsman, in the spirit of a fresh beginning. Her gaze shifts to his husband as she admits, “It is true that I did not know what I sought to find here. So I must wonder why you both were compelled to this place. What I am meant to learn.”
Then she turns toward the bonfire again, the one that she had come so far to witness and hoped so dearly to make something of. It does not look different from any other fire of similar size, and yet it is meant to contain a power that she is meant to desire. With the hand that does not hold her totem, she reaches gingerly for the heat of it. “You say your work is to guide the dying to peace. Does that mean I am meant to die?”
