She has seen too many faces, too many cycles of seasons, too many drifters adrift, too many souls hoarding sec…
She has seen too many faces, too many cycles of seasons, too many drifters adrift, too many souls hoarding secrets. Some bear treasures that seal their fate, vanishing before a word can be spoken. Others preen with half-truths, only to meet their end on some random night.
Mortals always think they toy with secrets.
A secret often outlives its bearer.
When the knower dies, the secret persists—waiting for the next to wield it, then sending them off in turn. Lives fade like spring, but secrets endure.
She harbors secrets, but doesn't seem the type to perish from them. She walks through more seasons than most, treading where secrets dare not last.
A being like that... is worthier of her gaze than any secret.