in tenebris est veritas.
It might be that they recognize those same mannerisms, though they had been delivered by a man who Chaele found ingenuine and wry. In Maea there is something entirely genuine however, somehow both wise and simple, trusting and trustworthy. Or perhaps Chaele only sees what they hope to, like an insect sniffing into a pitcher plant.
“I am not fond of walls and libraries. But I am still a researcher of a kind, and I could surely learn more than I could give.” The contemplations pour candidly out of their mouth, words that might have just as soon stayed in their throat having been pulled forth by the strange honesty of the moment. A decisive nod bows in their antlers. “I am interested, I admit. But know that I will only participate for as long as it serves me, as I expect I will only be welcome for as long as I serve a purpose.”
Still there is one question that must be answered before the shaman agrees entirely, a curious itch that must be scratched. “What are you afraid of? What happened here?”
“I am not fond of walls and libraries. But I am still a researcher of a kind, and I could surely learn more than I could give.” The contemplations pour candidly out of their mouth, words that might have just as soon stayed in their throat having been pulled forth by the strange honesty of the moment. A decisive nod bows in their antlers. “I am interested, I admit. But know that I will only participate for as long as it serves me, as I expect I will only be welcome for as long as I serve a purpose.”
Still there is one question that must be answered before the shaman agrees entirely, a curious itch that must be scratched. “What are you afraid of? What happened here?”
