[ Questions were exactly what he wanted her to have-- he would've been rather disappointed if she didn't. And every time he dropped irrefutable truth, he had looked right at the Warrior of Light; each time he spoke. For as much as he spoke those words for her and the Audience of the Scions, the words had never been for them. Of course not. They had been for her-- the sort of words that had been dropped precisely where it would frustrate her the most.

Within the recesses of a memory that was struggling to come to terms with something. Yes, her description was apt-- there was a light on, but it had been so very long ago and there were so many rooms of the soul that it was nearly impossible to remember where that exact light was left on. That too, he had intended.

Full well he knows that she is not armed, they both know it-- however he allows himself to humor her and thereby starts to saunter slowly from the shadows. There is a whisper of something, perhaps his void portal that ferries him to and fro across shards and through planets. He uses that power so casually but then he has had access to that power for as long as he can remember so by now it's merely muscle memory. His mind only has to think of a place before he is almost nearly there. Rather convenient too, all points aside ]

My my my, I do see that you are still hard at work, staring at these murals? Have they still not given you the answers you so desperately seek? I rather thought that I was clear and concise upon my story--

[ he had been, but only on his side. There was another side, that was the side though that was hazed in antiquity ]