[Ah, there it is— such quiet conviction wrapped in melancholy. Lobelia tilts his head, expression soft, a little thoughtful. There's something in Ludger's tone that strikes him as far too heavy for such a simple truth.]
Then perhaps that's what makes you worth saving yourself, mon ami. The kind of man who would offer his hand even knowing it might be bitten... how very human of you.
Are you quite sure? I feel similarly assured, yet there are those who would insist that no one is beyond salvation. Mention such a notion to Père Hansa, and he may well argue the opposite.
[But Lobelia will not. His own sentiments are not so far removed from Ludger's— in his eyes, man steers his own fate. Ludger has chosen his path, and that is enough.]
Ah, but oui— I did not write that letter, nor can I tell you who did. One of life's many little mysteries, perhaps. All the same, it was clearly meant for your hands.
Heheh! You would be right to suspect such a response from that stubborn man.
[Some things you just know... like the fact that you're going to hell. Lobelia can understand where Ludger is coming from, but it's hard to imagine he would be on a lower layer of hell than himself.]
I must profess that I don't know the three of them well enough to answer with confidence. That said, they are a friendly bunch. It wouldn't hurt to inquire.
I'm not sure if I hope it's one of them or not - the only other weirdly written things around have been those information packets and the cards. But if it was...
Mm! In any case, I'll trust your instincts. Should you uncover anything of interest, do let me know. Mysteries are far less dreadful when shared, non?
[He gives a genial nod, the thinnest trace of amusement in his eyes before turning to go. A small mystery solved... or perhaps simply postponed for another day.]
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Then perhaps that's what makes you worth saving yourself, mon ami. The kind of man who would offer his hand even knowing it might be bitten... how very human of you.
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[ an imperfection of the soul, strong enough to corrupt spirits and poison the cycle of reincarnation. and so treasured by Origin, despite it all. ]
I know what my life is worth, Lobelia, and salvation isn't in the cards. But while I'm still here, I'll do what I can.
... Can I assume you didn't write this, then?
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[But Lobelia will not. His own sentiments are not so far removed from Ludger's— in his eyes, man steers his own fate. Ludger has chosen his path, and that is enough.]
Ah, but oui— I did not write that letter, nor can I tell you who did. One of life's many little mysteries, perhaps. All the same, it was clearly meant for your hands.
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I'd rather not talk about salvation with Hansa - I have a feeling we'd end up arguing about what it is and who it's for and things like that.
[ day 0 and Ludger straight up said "i think everyone has the capacity for murder" to Hansa's face. he might be a little embarrassed about that. ]
Does it look like anything Sage, Rosemary, or Foxglove would write?
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[Some things you just know... like the fact that you're going to hell. Lobelia can understand where Ludger is coming from, but it's hard to imagine he would be on a lower layer of hell than himself.]
I must profess that I don't know the three of them well enough to answer with confidence. That said, they are a friendly bunch. It wouldn't hurt to inquire.
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I'm not sure if I hope it's one of them or not - the only other weirdly written things around have been those information packets and the cards. But if it was...
[ why so spooky ]
I'll check it out. Thanks, Lobelia.
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[He gives a genial nod, the thinnest trace of amusement in his eyes before turning to go. A small mystery solved... or perhaps simply postponed for another day.]