[ She wonders what that must be like, to know with such certainty that a deity is there, guiding you, only to be suddenly cut off from them. The likelihood that anyone in Riftwatch can accurately read Richard's mood at any given time is lower than rock bottom, but even so, Athessa doesn't think he's implied in any way that he prefers freedom from their influence than the alternative.
Which just makes it feel relatively safe to offer: ] I'm sorry. I can't imagine what that must be like.
[ Partway through the process of sectioning off another bite of pie for himself, a strange, painful twist in his throat prompts him to pause. He swallows again, and then clears it. Cutting is resumed more intently than before, with an absent nod of thanks in aside for the sentiment.
The fuzzy lines around his mouth have bit in deep, grim for the table setting of weed and stars and pie.
[ That pause is hard to miss. The renewed intent when he resumes cutting the pie. There's no telling if it'd be more helpful, more comforting, for her to simply pretend she didn't notice, or if she should offer some further consolation than that.
So she splits the difference, somewhat. She reaches over to put a hand on his shoulder, a brief pat and squeeze before pointing skyward again with her other hand. ]
That one there, Silence, we see as a depiction of Mythal, holding a horn and a staff to represent scales, since she's the Great Protector and patron of justice.
[ Dick doesn’t bristle or grit his jaw or lean away from her touch. The ball and socket of his shoulder eases lax after an initial lock of tension; he swallows again, and nudges the bite of pie he just so carefully cut away from the rest of the slice without taking it.
He doesn’t look up to follow Athessa’s pointed finger skywards until it’s occurred to him to set the knife carefully down. ]
What happened to Mythal?
[ Seems like she’s really sleeping on the job these days. ]
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no subject
Date: 2020-11-28 08:15 am (UTC)[ She wonders what that must be like, to know with such certainty that a deity is there, guiding you, only to be suddenly cut off from them. The likelihood that anyone in Riftwatch can accurately read Richard's mood at any given time is lower than rock bottom, but even so, Athessa doesn't think he's implied in any way that he prefers freedom from their influence than the alternative.
Which just makes it feel relatively safe to offer: ] I'm sorry. I can't imagine what that must be like.
no subject
Date: 2020-11-28 10:32 am (UTC)The fuzzy lines around his mouth have bit in deep, grim for the table setting of weed and stars and pie.
It’s fine. Everything is fine. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-11-28 11:06 pm (UTC)So she splits the difference, somewhat. She reaches over to put a hand on his shoulder, a brief pat and squeeze before pointing skyward again with her other hand. ]
That one there, Silence, we see as a depiction of Mythal, holding a horn and a staff to represent scales, since she's the Great Protector and patron of justice.
no subject
Date: 2020-12-12 08:39 pm (UTC)He doesn’t look up to follow Athessa’s pointed finger skywards until it’s occurred to him to set the knife carefully down. ]
What happened to Mythal?
[ Seems like she’s really sleeping on the job these days. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-12-12 10:29 pm (UTC)[ Turns out human nature applies to just about everyone. ]