[ Silco can see it, because he knows precisely what it is, to experience this. The swish of his tail, the way his fingers tightened on the railing -- oh, oh does he know this fury and anger and the need to remind this world of what offense they've brought down on their heads. His scoff is derisive, and bitter, he can't even keep it from his tone. ]

Of course not. It is their soul, not everything of their very being, and it means they have not yet been pulled from the ether of oblivion.

[ Or returned, he thinks bitterly, and his gloved fingers tightened at his cigar, before the paper crumpled underneath it, and he relaxed his fingers, forced them relaxed.

He understood this odd man, and his eyes looked out over all the people beneath them. ]

Many here have ghosts that we yearn for, and will never see in this world. Some cling to the promise that they will be reunited in a new world. You will have to decide, if you are one such over-hopeful fool.

[ He did not believe it, not after -- ]