“You are going to have to observe what remains of my parents without me. I…I cannot. Even with Simon Weatherson dead and their souls laid to rest, perhaps I cannot bear to look again.”
“I’m not going to expect you to follow further...I’ll return.” Kitt nodded slowly, entering the building. The bakery being the first floor, where the smells of the different bread and pastries would be presented to his nose. It made sense on how Emily would understand how Taros and the blacksmiths would work in things. But his general thoughts needed to be put away for a moment, he had to check the scene upstairs.
...when he did, he honestly wished he didn’t.
BGM
There on the second floor there was a bedroom and in that bedroom, a woman with a body completely stone. Kitt stopped almost suddenly at this discovery, just watching and staring at it, before slowly walking towards the bed. He...could feel something deep within him as he stared at this stone body. It wasn’t anything malicious intent from this body, no...it was more or less, something else. Could it be...dread? A lingering sense of existential dread.
Now standing right beside the bed and staring at the stone body of Emily’s mother and he started to feel worse. The strong dread lingered in the pit of his stomach, but now...instead of the mother, he was witnessing the body...and for a split second became himself. Now he was understanding why the stone body that he was investigating gave him a sense of dread: it was reminding him of himself. Looking to the window, he saw something in the garden...a man who also was simply a stone body...her father most likely. He backed away for a moment, before lifting his own hand up to look at it.
“...T-Taros...” Kitt muttered, visibly sweating as he looked away with his eyes closed, clenching his fist slowly. “...Great Forge Maker...why does this hurt me so? Why does she remind me of myself?”
The more he dwelt on it, the more it hurt him. Was this what happened with him? After all, Taros and his father told him that he was Taros’ greatest creation...he was an artificial human. A great taboo to be kept from all until the right time. But seeing this, why did it sicken him? Why did it almost seem to torture him? Why…? “...why do I feel so uneasy around this body? Why do her stoney eyes...pierce my soul?”
He shook his head, backing up even further. He couldn’t handle it, his face seemed like he had seen a ghost or even a repeat of Simon’s death. The pit in his stomach continued to muster and fester, this sickened him so...but yet, the dread of his existence remained. The Forge Watchdog left the room and made his way down the stairs, trying to make sure he kept himself presentable towards Emily. He didn’t want her to see him in quite the state. However, he saw her in...much more of a worse state. She was sunk lower than she did in the threshold, her legs gave out from under her, and now just barely propped herself up against the bakery's outer wall in a seated position. It was light, but she was paler than she was before.
“...I...saw the scene.” Kitt simply said, walking out of the building’s threshold. A mask and facade was put on now, to where the Watchdog had no emotion. “You...have my condolences. Is there anything else you would remember from this? Nuumu’s Watchdog told me the general details, but coming from the mouth of the family would be better.”
"The vision I had," Emily mumbled, seemingly to nobody in particular, "I asked Myria how I could bring my parents' souls to rest. I should have asked..." Only then did she realize that she had been spoken to, and she looked up at Kitt, a distant look in her eye. "Such as? Her dying words? My mother pulled me in close, apologized for nothing of consequence, and left me with a single word: Ina͠ni̷s. I do not know what it means, but how could I forget it?"
Emily coughed. "I do hope this is just fatigue," she added. "It certainly feels like I could sleep forever."
Kitt looked at Emily, crouching down as he put his hand on her shoulder. “...so nothing else caught your eye or anything?” he asked, a small look of worry began to appear on his face.
Emily's gaze narrowed into a glare. There was at least some vigor in her eyes, at least. "I am sorry I was too busy watching my mother petrify before my eyes."
The response from her cut him, much worse than any bladed weapon ever could. Kitt looked away, sighing slowly. “...I-I’m sorry...I’m only trying to help to the best of my ability.”
She gave a pained sort of grunt at that, though the glare remained. "Nuumu's watchdog thought you could free the soul trapped inside, though if this is the first you are hearing about this maybe she did not believe too hard." She gave a little laugh at that. "If you cannot do this, I imagine there is not much else to do but lay me down on a bed and hope what I need is rest."
Kitt sighed again, before nodding. "She told me that she'd need the forge, as the temple pyres were not fit to cremate a statue." It pained him to even say the word like that, and he was fairly certain Emily noticed it. "In any case, I'm...willing to try. I can see what the Forgekeepers can do with making the proper preparations with the forges. But...I ask that you do one thing...continue to hold on. I'm walking you to the temple of Lar, Nuumu's Watchdog made mention to me before that you and your family pay tribute to that one...I want you to stay there until this is done. You need not be here when things happen. And in your condition now, you need the comfort of Lar to be with you."
...but that word though...her mother's last word...don't tell me that's the word Neasa was talking about earlier...