She had to laugh, softly. It was too ironic not to. For all he praised her aid and spoke of gratitude, she felt so absolutely undeserving as to find it darkly humorous. She was no priestess, however much she might wish she had that regal dignity. She was only a homeless, kin-less healer, searching for where she belonged. And he was crying, so she could not. With her Gift, she felt all manner of signals from him, all depths of memory and longing and sorrow. Half of it blocked her senses, so strong it was... half of her forgot to feel herself, for feeling him. His body communicated what his emotions felt and she smiled somewhat sadly; she could relate, perhaps more than she could adequately say, but she felt that relating would not serve her here. With a deep breath, she pushed herself down and into a corner, steeling herself with serenity and smooth compassion. "I am not..." she began, halting suddenly, perhaps too aware of a self-depreciative tendency that had begun to show itself. When she continued, her voice was more... flat. "I'm glad that you've gotten what you came for, then." As he stood beside her, she bowed her head faintly whilst watching him from the corner of her eye, as if to express gratitude in being a small part of his sought-after revelations. The rest of her was on lock-down, caged and calm, unwilling or unable to walk any farther down the intimate road they'd been sharing to this point. "Laviku's children are many, His embrace vast. If you are one of them, then I can only say I am grateful for the chance to speak with another." The smile she offered then was simple - open and clear and soft. And almost without impact on her eyes. She learned long ago that her face reflected a great deal more of her feelings than she ever intended it to, so the edges of her eyes started to soften slightly because she made them do so, not because the expression naturally came. The end result was the same, however - a mask as believable as the sun, as real as the waves. ...you'd be proud. I hope. |