Empty Spaces [IC]

[Segrain]

"Were you even born when anything of that was actually new?" - Istilia chuckled at boy's words, but her mirth was merely a guise for the disappointment. None of those things could be in any possible manner related to the voice in her head, and even though the story about some monastery starting its own internal war on the city streets was interesting when she heard it the first time from some fellow performers in Oriat, she was not particularly interested in the details of their latest activities. And even less so in fires and thievery, which even in Kaer Maga were probably not different from the same anywhere else in Varisia or in any other land under the sun. Not that she would had been interested in thievery even if it would had been any different: despite what... some people... tended to assume whenever a glimpse of a tattoo appeared from under her sleeve, she was not that kind of a dancer.

Istilia shook her head - more to her own thoughts than to the boy's question; lost in the former, she was not paying all that much attention to the latter. Not that it mattered, since her commentator helpfully recapitulated and reminded her. So that was what he wanted her to hear? It did not appear to make a lot of sense, but she could see at least some purpose in it. Still, a mysterious voice that started haunting her since her death probably was not interested solely in her nonexistent relationships with criminals. There should had been more to it. In fact, was it not trying to goad her somewhither the very first time when she had heard it? Of course, it would had been easier to just tell her whatever she was supposed to learn, but she did not need to die to understand that mysterious voices did not tend to do anything the easy way.

"Not at the moment", - finally giving the boy at least some response that, hopefully, was not revealing her confusion, Istilia headed away. She indulged her observer once, and though she did not like the result, it at least provided some information, useless as it was. She was still missing something important. But what worked once, was worth trying again - and even if whatever was awaiting her back at the inn was going to be unlikeable too, then she would have had to deal with it earlier or later anyway. That was not a relaxing thought, but since her death those were not particularly common - and so Istilia was not expecting anything pleasant as she was making her way back to Hospice.