11-16-2017, 08:19 PM
As often as she was called upon to repair the damage done to the human body, it was not, in fact, the Verbena's sole sphere of interest. Kiara was also a Disciple of Spirit and as such, it was not unusual to see the brunette's attention seem split between two places at once. It often, as a matter of fact, was. There was always the sense with the pagan that she was looking as much through you as at you.
An attribute often associated with those who, like the man whose head rested on her lap at present, were receptive to the other side. They did say, after all, that any Mage who wandered too long in the Umbral realms, might just forget to return at all. That or their corporeal body would perish and trap them within the spiritual realm forever.
While Ned is asking about reasons why Andrés might (or should) fear for his life, the pagan is looking into the distance with a slightly unfocused expression. Her mouth has rearranged itself from its oft supple smile into a frown and her fingers have fallen away from William's fair locks to grip at the arm of the sofa. "Has it occurred to you his being secretive is likely why he's still alive?," she asks softly, after a pause. Her focus seems to pull back from wherever it was, and she seemed, for the first time, genuinely weary.
"You say it's the worst kind but it's not." There's a loaded beat of silence. Kiara's eyes return to his face. Her expression, beneath the apparent exhaustion seeping in, is difficult to decipher. "I've never been one for Cabals. I was in a Coven, once. A long time ago." Her fingers relax against the sofa, she smooths over the grooves her nails had been driving into the fabric. "It didn't agree with me. Here's what I can promise you, Ned. I'll always do what I believe is right by your Doc. At some point, you might start to trust that's the most important promise any of us can make."
Kiara's eyes lower to Will's face and she regards the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.
It's notable she does not answer as to threats, past and present she brings to the table. "We found somebody to help Will. I called in a favor with a friend. He's on his way." She glances at Ned. "His name is Michael."
An attribute often associated with those who, like the man whose head rested on her lap at present, were receptive to the other side. They did say, after all, that any Mage who wandered too long in the Umbral realms, might just forget to return at all. That or their corporeal body would perish and trap them within the spiritual realm forever.
While Ned is asking about reasons why Andrés might (or should) fear for his life, the pagan is looking into the distance with a slightly unfocused expression. Her mouth has rearranged itself from its oft supple smile into a frown and her fingers have fallen away from William's fair locks to grip at the arm of the sofa. "Has it occurred to you his being secretive is likely why he's still alive?," she asks softly, after a pause. Her focus seems to pull back from wherever it was, and she seemed, for the first time, genuinely weary.
"You say it's the worst kind but it's not." There's a loaded beat of silence. Kiara's eyes return to his face. Her expression, beneath the apparent exhaustion seeping in, is difficult to decipher. "I've never been one for Cabals. I was in a Coven, once. A long time ago." Her fingers relax against the sofa, she smooths over the grooves her nails had been driving into the fabric. "It didn't agree with me. Here's what I can promise you, Ned. I'll always do what I believe is right by your Doc. At some point, you might start to trust that's the most important promise any of us can make."
Kiara's eyes lower to Will's face and she regards the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.
It's notable she does not answer as to threats, past and present she brings to the table. "We found somebody to help Will. I called in a favor with a friend. He's on his way." She glances at Ned. "His name is Michael."