The ashen cherub is far too understanding and in love with the world to understand the poison that coats Sia's words, or to even understand that anything is amiss. If she only knew that Aithniel left he and Luther in the care of the herd, to be raised by them rather than her, perhaps she would soften towards him. Perhaps not though. He had no way of knowing. Instead, he merely thought her anger directed towards any mention of the Throat. The Throat who, as he had learned from whispered conversations, had seemingly pushed her out. The boy understood Sia had some role to play in it, but he had been young at the time, and much of it had been above his paygrade anyways.
As the conversation plays on, Thèo gets the impression that there is some sort of bitterness in the air. Why all this talk of unworthy causes and fools? Kiada beats him to the punch, outlining the basic structure of the Edge and the Basin, and the tribrid nods his head in agreement.
"It might be worth mentioning that you needn't choose a herd at all. There are benefits of course, but if you wish only for an exit, you've already found it." His words are eloquent, dappled with the foreign accent he's picked up from having no particular parent and instead having been raised by the Throat as a communal whole. "Though I do have to say, with winter right around the corner, the Throat will certainly be the warmest place to be." A happy smile tugs at his youthful lips, and he allows the grin to warmly colour his features. He isn't here to recruit at all.
mathèo
I got a river for a soul
And baby you're a boat
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