"Master Igna."
"Yes Kul?"
"I apologize if I'm bothering," she wondered with her words, taking detours with her expression – hesitant, confident then drops to anxious. Igna could but watch, there was a sense of relief in the air, a sense of mysticism.
"You don't need to apologize," he added, "-I should be more careful about the projected emotions. It's true, I'm sad about Lucifer's death. More than anything, his loss hits me harder than when I lost some of my family members," those hard-hitting words, they tackled Kul, she stumbled, catching herself at the last minute by catching a nearby door handle. Igna came at the doorway and stopped – the expanded realm lessened in potency – the fracture in reality yet lived, the sense of nausea and disturbance it exuded was much to their dislike.
"More sorry about his loss?"
"I speak my mind. Kul, I think it's a good time for me to depart from Orin."
