Oh, how tricky they were, ying and yang when it came from their behavior. 

You weren’t sure which side of the face was true—whether either of them was, or simply a faux mask carved onto a blank slate. 

It almost gave you whiplash when they shifted from the stereotypical suave you’d find behind the counter of a market stall to a lost soul wandering the wastelands without a single clue of where they’re going. 

It didn’t seem they were aware of how they ended up on such a desolate, cursed path, while the others looked to the citadel for a cure, they seemed content with a simple answer to the question that plagued most people. 

 Why? 

“Well, it seems like our show has been cut short!” (Whimsical, but feels rehearsed) 

“Cut especially, his sword sliced like the guts of the boar like he owed it money!” (Sauve like a salesman, but almost mimicking, like they’ve heard somebody else say it.) 

“Hahh hah!” (Trying to be charming, but somewhat unhinged.) 

“Why aren’t you laughing? ..You're supposed to laugh.” (Empty, emotionless.) 

“..Hng.” (Nervous, slightly embarrassed noise.) 

“..Sometimes I forget how to laugh, but the Empyrean will remind me.” (Empty but slightly sad, voice quieter and slightly creepy.) 

“The Fount will tell me everything.” (Breathy and hollow, but slightly hopeful.) 

“But we shan’t dwell on such things, I must return to entertaining my customers!” (Back to the same whimsical, but slightly more forced and unhinged.)