Cali laughed at the comic book reference, taking no offense at what some here might have taken as irreverence. She had never seen the point of elitism when it came to the sacred, preferring faith to be understood in whatever way best connected. The words were wise no matter who was remembered as speaking them. It made her think of her little brother, who always seemed to have some retro obsession, but the memory was short lived as she caught sight of Quillon’s new direction. Her smile grew when he not only noticed them, but began to make his way over. Seraphis and the stranger followed at a more sedate pace.
“Quillon was the one who first introduced me to the Brotherhood,” she leaned to explain quietly to Mia in the moments before they arrived. Her smile was naturally buoyant in greeting, its encouragement reaching Quillon first despite his somehow managing to introduce himself last. She turned naturally to defer to the Veilwardens, intending to allow them to answer Mia’s question. She would say nothing of Mia’s confessions about her memories, of course. If the woman chose to share or inquire to that end, it was entirely up to her. Either way Cali stood close by, in quiet and encouraging solidarity. Though she had always been in awe of Quillon's ardent passions and Seraphis's cool mystery, she was aware that the two of them in the same space could be somewhat liked opposing magnets.
But it was the stranger amongst them who commandeered and swallowed the attention. His voice was velvet, its timbre enthralling in a way she had only ever heard in the Luminar himself, yet unsettling too, in a discordant way she had never experienced. Cali glanced at Mia, touching her arm in quiet apology, but her composure remained unruffled by the interruption. Such demands were not unusual, and he seemed to pose the question largely to her, though she could not fathom why. It was natural to want to see the power the Ascendancy had returned to the world, and sometimes it was even obliged by those with the gift for it, but there was a performative edge to his stance and tone. One that suggested he had no intention of allowing himself to believe, but simply wished to be entertained by players on a personal stage.
“The eyes are the least of the senses,” she said. The lilt of her accent softened the words into lightness. Her eyes twinkled a merriment unphased by the impossible challenge. “And a sceptic will always search for the explanation, no matter what he sees.”
Only charlatans responded eagerly to a call to prove themselves. As she had told Mia, faith was an answer of the heart, and the Brotherhood a doorway for those willing to step through and explore its secrets. Cali had no gifts to share but her own compelling nature. With a gesture both playful and sincere, she delivered the dare back to him: palms upturned and held out gently for him to take if he wished. He had taken a step back from them, as though settling back for a show, and would need to return to close the divide. “Will you close your eyes?”
“Quillon was the one who first introduced me to the Brotherhood,” she leaned to explain quietly to Mia in the moments before they arrived. Her smile was naturally buoyant in greeting, its encouragement reaching Quillon first despite his somehow managing to introduce himself last. She turned naturally to defer to the Veilwardens, intending to allow them to answer Mia’s question. She would say nothing of Mia’s confessions about her memories, of course. If the woman chose to share or inquire to that end, it was entirely up to her. Either way Cali stood close by, in quiet and encouraging solidarity. Though she had always been in awe of Quillon's ardent passions and Seraphis's cool mystery, she was aware that the two of them in the same space could be somewhat liked opposing magnets.
But it was the stranger amongst them who commandeered and swallowed the attention. His voice was velvet, its timbre enthralling in a way she had only ever heard in the Luminar himself, yet unsettling too, in a discordant way she had never experienced. Cali glanced at Mia, touching her arm in quiet apology, but her composure remained unruffled by the interruption. Such demands were not unusual, and he seemed to pose the question largely to her, though she could not fathom why. It was natural to want to see the power the Ascendancy had returned to the world, and sometimes it was even obliged by those with the gift for it, but there was a performative edge to his stance and tone. One that suggested he had no intention of allowing himself to believe, but simply wished to be entertained by players on a personal stage.
“The eyes are the least of the senses,” she said. The lilt of her accent softened the words into lightness. Her eyes twinkled a merriment unphased by the impossible challenge. “And a sceptic will always search for the explanation, no matter what he sees.”
Only charlatans responded eagerly to a call to prove themselves. As she had told Mia, faith was an answer of the heart, and the Brotherhood a doorway for those willing to step through and explore its secrets. Cali had no gifts to share but her own compelling nature. With a gesture both playful and sincere, she delivered the dare back to him: palms upturned and held out gently for him to take if he wished. He had taken a step back from them, as though settling back for a show, and would need to return to close the divide. “Will you close your eyes?”