Stifling his endless nerves, he decided his fears were unfounded and irrelevant to the true issue.
Why did what Dia thought of him even matter?
'And since when have I ever cared for such a thing?'
Ixion had little care what an individual thought of him before, so why would he begin to care now.
Floating forward, Ixion's soul gently caressed Dia's body; he didn't want to slam his soul into her and cause her body to react.
As more of his soul slipped into her vessel, Dia's eyes momentarily grew a hint of confusion, but she kept still. Her eyes were trained on the thrall before her.
The first thing Ixion felt when he finished entering was pain.
The biting scars from lashes still dripping blood. The several cracked ribs which attempted to mend themselves using her Aether.
Tentatively, Ixion thought:
'Don't react.'
Dia shook a little upon his words, perhaps startled. But a moment later, she spit upon the thrall watching her.
'Good sell! As expected of you, Dia.'
