Echoes of various voices created a humming sensation along the streets while Orion and Rigil faced each other, deep within the folds of their conversation. Rigil’s eyes narrowed as he listened with a deep misgiving, shaking his head slightly. He parted his feet, hooking his thumb along the strap across his chest. His other hand seemed to uselessly fall to his side, his shoulders rising and falling as he took in deep breaths to maintain composure, something which was easy to do for him. “I suppose what you say is true, but I just do not see it,” he sighed,raising one hand to rub his forehead. “I’m not lying. I fell seven years ago. I’ve travelled along the northern lay of the land and well, I know I have a vocation as a scribe, but why was it that I fell? Surely, if you say we are all meant for something..then what is it, Orion? What are you here for?” He then returned his hand to hook his fingers along the strap as he lifted his chin, his eyebrows drooping down into a thoughtful frown. “I am aware of those Ethaefals who have lost themselves and have lost the grace of Syna and Leth,” he said slowly, scratching his cheek casually. “I’m always afraid I would become someone like that. That..would be a horrible fate indeed. May it be Lhex has not called me here for that reason alone.” Sighing aloud, he rubbed his chest and then cleared his throat. The cognitive pain of memories seemed to truly hinder his own desire to rise above his grief. Lacking any ambition, Rigil simply floated along the tides of fate. “Anyhow, it’s a pleasure to meet another Ethaefal, even if we are both in our mortal forms,” he attempted a forced smile. “Maybe you’re right about trust. I guess it’s something I will need to learn on my own until I have been garnered with the wisdom needed to survive in this world.” |