[The Preservation did that, says Caelus. I saw them after I was stabbed. As if drawing the gaze of an Aeon had been simply one of those mildly rare occurrences that one would remark upon in passing. On par with having a bird land in the palm of your hand, or glimpsing a shooting star in a night sky.
Studying the neutral set of Caelus's features in delivering this news for a long moment, Luocha supposes that perhaps it would indeed seem like such a typical thing. To a person for whom, most likely, life events in general are few but densely steeped in strangeness.]
My, is that so? I see...
[As if there aren't countless people in this universe who would spend their whole lives burning themselves to ashes for the mere illusion of any Aeon's split-second attention. As if the reversal of a mortal wound on behalf of the Preservation wouldn't be considered by some cultures to be an ultimate favor of the Amber Lord, the height of divine providence. ...Still, though the memory does seem to set a pensiveness of some reflection upon Caelus in recalling it, he doesn't address it with overt gravity...and so Luocha opts not to either. Merely this politely intrigued acknowledgment, with slightly arched eyebrows to accompany it...before Luocha's hand is drawn back, health assessment finished, and he moves on from there.
--Well. Almost, moves on,]
Naturally, it would be difficult to determine the true intent behind such an encounter. There are scholars in this world who spend all their days attempting to understand the wants of Aeons, only to find themselves no closer to the truth in the end. But there is no hole in your heart at present, and you breathe among the living still, and this is a result that cannot be argued. Does the reasoning matter so much in the end?
[He knows, of course, that he's responding to a remark that wasn't even directly meant for him. Perhaps it's just...the topic of Aeons always tends to draw something out, like this. It's something about the flat set of Luocha's words, the certainty in that last question, as if it isn't particularly rhetorical in his own opinion.
(To him, the reasoning doesn't matter at all. Not when it's barely human anymore. Not when the end result doesn't change anyhow, regardless of the answer. When all you can do is try to move forward with the fickle cards they've now dealt you. Because you have to. Because there's no choice. As it always is, in matters of Aeons--)
But anyhow. Yes, now they're moving on. It's an almost palpable shift right back, from that brief lapsing pause to something more cordially amiable once more. To business, and all that.]
Hmm, but let's see...for a clean slate of health...well, I hardly think this a sort of thing that would demand a monetary charge. If you'd consider it a favor from me...then perhaps, I could ask a favor from you in return?
no subject
Studying the neutral set of Caelus's features in delivering this news for a long moment, Luocha supposes that perhaps it would indeed seem like such a typical thing. To a person for whom, most likely, life events in general are few but densely steeped in strangeness.]
My, is that so? I see...
[As if there aren't countless people in this universe who would spend their whole lives burning themselves to ashes for the mere illusion of any Aeon's split-second attention. As if the reversal of a mortal wound on behalf of the Preservation wouldn't be considered by some cultures to be an ultimate favor of the Amber Lord, the height of divine providence. ...Still, though the memory does seem to set a pensiveness of some reflection upon Caelus in recalling it, he doesn't address it with overt gravity...and so Luocha opts not to either. Merely this politely intrigued acknowledgment, with slightly arched eyebrows to accompany it...before Luocha's hand is drawn back, health assessment finished, and he moves on from there.
--Well. Almost, moves on,]
Naturally, it would be difficult to determine the true intent behind such an encounter. There are scholars in this world who spend all their days attempting to understand the wants of Aeons, only to find themselves no closer to the truth in the end. But there is no hole in your heart at present, and you breathe among the living still, and this is a result that cannot be argued. Does the reasoning matter so much in the end?
[He knows, of course, that he's responding to a remark that wasn't even directly meant for him. Perhaps it's just...the topic of Aeons always tends to draw something out, like this. It's something about the flat set of Luocha's words, the certainty in that last question, as if it isn't particularly rhetorical in his own opinion.
(To him, the reasoning doesn't matter at all. Not when it's barely human anymore. Not when the end result doesn't change anyhow, regardless of the answer. When all you can do is try to move forward with the fickle cards they've now dealt you. Because you have to. Because there's no choice. As it always is, in matters of Aeons--)
But anyhow. Yes, now they're moving on. It's an almost palpable shift right back, from that brief lapsing pause to something more cordially amiable once more. To business, and all that.]
Hmm, but let's see...for a clean slate of health...well, I hardly think this a sort of thing that would demand a monetary charge. If you'd consider it a favor from me...then perhaps, I could ask a favor from you in return?