It's not relief that slips into her emotions, necessarily, but more of an understanding — that when she is dealing with one of them, the likelihood that the other is present as well is very slim. Then again, based on the impression she'd gleaned from being in both of their presences, there's no possibility for her to mistake one for the other now, not when Marc is every ounce the stronger, weighted persona in contrast to Steven, who had been more tentative from the start.
She dwells less on the notion of the circumstances that may have created the fractures within the mind and more on the subject of the Egyptian god that has some hold over its parts — the name Khonshu does not ring a bell, although she cannot help but spare a brief thought towards her dear friend Mr. Lyle and his intricate knowledge of the deities of that time. "Then I suppose they and I have more in common than we ever thought we would," she admits. "A member of the Egyptian divine once attempted to snare her hooks in me when my soul was most vulnerable to possession. Perhaps Amunet would have succeeded in her task had another not been more persistent in his desire to consume me."
She's far removed from the night of that seance and all that had followed — but more importantly, however, it's the new context she now holds about what had kept Grayson away that night that delivers a fuller picture of the circumstances. "I understand," she murmurs, glancing down at her hands before one takes hold of his, as instinctive as it is an effort made to ground herself to the present rather than slipping too far into memories conjured by these unexpected commonalities.
"It truly did weigh you down to keep this from me, didn't it?" It's a rhetorical question when she already knows the answer, but now she only feels sympathy for the state he'd been placed in — wanting to be honest with her but contained by his responsibility to another, a position she has been in herself more than once before. She can practically sense the burden of it lifting off of him now, as she ducks her chin enough to meet his gaze, to utter the words with quiet conviction. "Their secret was yours, and now it is mine, never to be divulged to another. You, and they, have my loyalty in that."
no subject
She dwells less on the notion of the circumstances that may have created the fractures within the mind and more on the subject of the Egyptian god that has some hold over its parts — the name Khonshu does not ring a bell, although she cannot help but spare a brief thought towards her dear friend Mr. Lyle and his intricate knowledge of the deities of that time. "Then I suppose they and I have more in common than we ever thought we would," she admits. "A member of the Egyptian divine once attempted to snare her hooks in me when my soul was most vulnerable to possession. Perhaps Amunet would have succeeded in her task had another not been more persistent in his desire to consume me."
She's far removed from the night of that seance and all that had followed — but more importantly, however, it's the new context she now holds about what had kept Grayson away that night that delivers a fuller picture of the circumstances. "I understand," she murmurs, glancing down at her hands before one takes hold of his, as instinctive as it is an effort made to ground herself to the present rather than slipping too far into memories conjured by these unexpected commonalities.
"It truly did weigh you down to keep this from me, didn't it?" It's a rhetorical question when she already knows the answer, but now she only feels sympathy for the state he'd been placed in — wanting to be honest with her but contained by his responsibility to another, a position she has been in herself more than once before. She can practically sense the burden of it lifting off of him now, as she ducks her chin enough to meet his gaze, to utter the words with quiet conviction. "Their secret was yours, and now it is mine, never to be divulged to another. You, and they, have my loyalty in that."