[ Silco can only offer him a sardonic, quick quirk of his lips, before he took another puff of that cigar, and blew a smoke ring into the air. Oh, how he knew that desperation, still looking, ever-searching. He'd hit every shrine, every time, over and over again. He'd found her -- and the Regent (he blamed the Regent) had taken his memory of her arrival away. Then here, again, and yet again she was taken from him.
He understood that desperation so well, but his tone -- barely controlled, with a tight restraint that is barely there -- slides smoothly, around a mouthful of lingering, remaining smoke. ]
You have a shard, yes? We all have one -- a crystalline version of what could reasonably called your soul. [ His own, nestled there against his collar bone, he raised a hand, to touch at it, although he didn't pull it out. He instead looked at the man -- thing? -- with a heavy look, meaningful. One eye blinked, the other didn't. ]
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He understood that desperation so well, but his tone -- barely controlled, with a tight restraint that is barely there -- slides smoothly, around a mouthful of lingering, remaining smoke. ]
You have a shard, yes? We all have one -- a crystalline version of what could reasonably called your soul. [ His own, nestled there against his collar bone, he raised a hand, to touch at it, although he didn't pull it out. He instead looked at the man -- thing? -- with a heavy look, meaningful. One eye blinked, the other didn't. ]