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she'd tilt her head back, eyes now looking down upon him. disgust? no. morbid curiosity.

"i'm afraid i do not understand."
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"the wounds are caused by imperfection? or is imperfection caused by the wounds?"

she asks, trying to prod deeper into his head. trying to understand just how this wanderer thinks. it's obvious to her that his very existence carries ample suffering.

"what is so wrong with healing?"
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she could use.

"you've placed bandages over wounds that do not heal. or, is it that you've never bothered to tend to your wounds in the first place?"
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the subtle notion of concealed anguish, the confusion apparent in his voice.

she knew all too well of his suffering, even if she had never shared an experience with the wanderer. one thing is for certain, at least... it made her curious.

perhaps, maybe... his suffering could be something
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"if it always passes, then why does it always come back?"

she asks, rather bluntly. not that she actually knows of the other's habits, only an assumption based purely on his words.

pain incarnate could only observe the other's actions, his tears that would refuse to reveal themselves...
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a statue.

"what's wrong?"
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her brows would raise in curiosity. though, her eyes remain void.

the suffering... it attracts her.

"you're not fine." she says simply. "even if i can sense your emotion... it wouldn't be hard for an average person to tell that you lie."

she now stands behind him, still as if she were
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"are you okay?"

the goddess came from seemingly nowhere, head tilting as she approached.
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"the concept of friendship and relations is one quite foreign to me. though, it is something i am willing to try."

though yearning, she seems at peace with her own loneliness. perhaps it would be the explanation to any internal doubts he may have.
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she couldn't help but yearn to be by another's side.. though, for not why one usually would.

"like i've said, my home is quite lonely. i am the only one who roams the lands and skies, the space and the unknown."

the lids of her eyes fall to a close, calm and oddly content.
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"what am i looking for?"

the goddess would repeat his question, filler so she could actually come up with a faux answer. surely, bloodlust and suffering is not acceptable.

"companionship."

the first thought to come to mind. after a certain conversation with a certain greek,
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yawn..
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ㅤㅤ「My Lord. May flowers bloom wherever you wander. 」
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all i'm left with is all i know.
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she explains.

"i am the sole inhabitant. if i wander my own home, i'd find nothing and nothing more."

with her answer came the smallest smile. it reeks of an odd sense of pride, nearly like a newly blooming sunflower in the midst of an empty field.

"so, i seek elsewhere."
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and seemingly at peace.

though, when asked further about her motives, she'd simply and slowly open her eyes. a single nod before looking to the wanderer, a stare absent of light but filled with a strange darkness. not an evil, no.. just the absence of light.

"my home isn't all too eventful."
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the goddess would only close her eyes and look to the ground beneath her, unsure of how to properly respond to his optimism.

through silence, she wouldn't even flinch. though hiding her purpose, no movement of a finger, nor a shake or tremor of any sort came from the swordswoman. she's calm,
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a sword gripped in hand, serrated blade sinking deep into the flesh of a new victim. an older man, still clinging to life.

a red mist flows through the blade and to the hilt, the swordswoman's hands absorbing the energy of the poor man's life.

his suffering is satisfactory.
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but this called for… empathy, attempts to relate and understand another being.

maybe growing close could eventually bring about a more devastating pain.

“for acquaintances.” a thought she had just now. “persons to talk to, i think.”
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“at times, it’s nice to wander. maybe you’ll find something new and exciting you haven’t seen before.”

a light shrug of the shoulders as she recalls the basics of conversation. not often does she casually converse with a living being. her sentences usually of bringing demise and pain.

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𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞.

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[* the goddess would find the abomination’s proposition amusing, not allowing the emotion to be present on her own features. she is the god of such agony; the deity of which the other speaks of. ]

sheppard me. show me pain and suffering.

[* intrigued, she entertains the gesture. ]

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seeming genuinely interested in the stranger’s response.

“you could say i’m more so… scouting.”

a curt nod.
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her eyelids remain low, almost tired. though it’s clear she’s anything but tired. within this nearly limp posture is a unique passion of bloodlust, hidden behind a facade she had built over hundreds of years.

“a traveller of sorts? or just a wanderer?”

a sudden light in her dark irises,
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reject the hand of the devout.
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