He listened without interruption or judgment, watching the eyes beneath the mask or the unwebbed hands that deftly handled fire and wax and shells. Her knowing look was met with a small tilt of his head in acknowledgment of her gift to the waves and cathedral; appreciating the intention if nothing else.
It was always fascinating to hear what drylanders thought of the ocean's bounty. Their interpretations were always fresh and sometimes exotic, and Hadama considered the crab and the shells in particular. "What happens to the magic when there are conflicting associations?" he asked curiously.
He could not hold back the water for her, but he positioned himself to break the force of the small waves rising with the slow cycles of eternity back towards their nadir so that the water merely tickled the edges of the pattern for now. "Your people...?" Another questioning lilt to the deep voice as he held his guesses locked inside until she could shed light on her own meaning.
It was always fascinating to hear what drylanders thought of the ocean's bounty. Their interpretations were always fresh and sometimes exotic, and Hadama considered the crab and the shells in particular. "What happens to the magic when there are conflicting associations?" he asked curiously.
He could not hold back the water for her, but he positioned himself to break the force of the small waves rising with the slow cycles of eternity back towards their nadir so that the water merely tickled the edges of the pattern for now. "Your people...?" Another questioning lilt to the deep voice as he held his guesses locked inside until she could shed light on her own meaning.
