[ Matt would really rather not return to the cavern. To those sunless days when he called and called with nothing to answer for the first time since he'd started asking, sickness and black oil roiling in his gut. He wasn't raised within a religious tradition the way Paul was, the way he gleans that Liem was, so part of him feels like he has no real grounds to feel the loss he does. The aloneness, as Liem puts it. And yet there it is, at the bottom of everything he says and does here. He's not like the rest of the travelers who were ferried to Horos: a precious piece of him had disappeared long before the throne room and its rituals.
He can't bring himself to acknowledge what Liem's said, not even with a nod or half-hearted agreement. He just keeps staring down at Liem's fingers against his palm. ]
no subject
He can't bring himself to acknowledge what Liem's said, not even with a nod or half-hearted agreement. He just keeps staring down at Liem's fingers against his palm. ]
This isn't the hand you wanna talk about.