It could’ve been worse, he supposed, than dealing with a grieving ghost. Their LongNight experiences had taught them both a range of devastating potentials, and perhaps he was slightly grateful that the phantom hadn’t thought to reach out, attack, seethe, or indulge. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe they’d all long lost that spirit or potential. Maybe it had simply been the Voice’s demons parading in the night, and these ones, had been long forgotten amidst collections of souls, scattered along the way.
Kiada spotted more possibilities though, and his gaze tracked in the same direction as hers, watching the makeshift tendrils and enigmas clustering and coiling around one another. “I see them,” he noted with a nod and a murmur, before opting to make it apparent to the quiet and mourning wraith. “What about there?”
At which her delicate and flimsy head shot up, as if the promise of potential was too great again, and she began walking over, slowly scrutinizing the ether – but saying nothing at all.
Kiada spotted more possibilities though, and his gaze tracked in the same direction as hers, watching the makeshift tendrils and enigmas clustering and coiling around one another. “I see them,” he noted with a nod and a murmur, before opting to make it apparent to the quiet and mourning wraith. “What about there?”
At which her delicate and flimsy head shot up, as if the promise of potential was too great again, and she began walking over, slowly scrutinizing the ether – but saying nothing at all.
deimos
Never let them drain the river of your soul
