"A complicated person, then.  ...As is everyone, I suppose."  The way Tsitua described Ketsuoana, she thought perhaps he did not need to be a particular concern.  Still, the final comment about him made her eyes narrow and her expression harden.  She trusted very few people well enough that she would say something like that.  Was this the depth of his trust, or merely a sign of someone who could afford to be generous with it?

The question was a surprise, and Amuné blinked, trying to come up with an answer.  "He was the first of many, though only a few are worth recalling," the Seer replied.  "In some ways, your lord reminds me of him.  That same feeling of countless years, of witnessing the flow of ages firsthand.  He wasn't disconnected, as Ketsuoana is, but he was always...blurred.  I never saw him in any of my visions with a single exception, and I'm not even sure of that.  He somehow never gave off any ripples.  He was the one who taught me meditation.  I remember that far more clearly.  Always patient, even when I was terrified, when I couldn't stand being around anyone."  She ran her fingers through the grass absently as she spoke.  "I think it was because I'd already known him for a while by then, from times when I was too lost to have memory of it, but somehow he never bothered me as much as anyone else."  A small smile played across her features.  "For a while I thought he was as imagined as the rest, but though the hallucinations faded, he remained.  He never told me much about himself -- he had a way of dodging questions, and answering without actually answering.  Other times he would say a great deal with only a few words.  I don't actually have a name for him, just a title: Keeper."  The girl's expression turned solemn, and she lowered her head.  "He saved me, Tsitua.  Just how many times I couldn't say."  Her right hand went to circle her left wrist in a subconscious gesture that inadvertently drew attention to the faint traces of old scars there.  "Once from the Ring.  And...I think it might have been him that finally helped me find reality again, afterwards.  I don't know.  I couldn't make out the face, and he has none of the power I felt then.  Yet for some reason...I think the two are closely connected.

"He was kind.  He never yelled at me, even when he was angry or disappointed.  Only rarely raised his voice at all, though he could be forceful, if I simply wasn't listening.  And always just a little sad.  Like he was looking for something even though he knew he'd never find it.  After I started learning from other people, he would turn up now and then.  I still run into him, on occasion, usually at...at the Upstairs."  Her expression flickered briefly, but she resolutely pushed through the stab of pain that had accompanied the thought of the restaurant.  "He seems to know everyone.  But I'm not sure how well any of us know him."

[@TheMinorFall]