He sits around being bored a lot. Wonders a bit what the services are actually like but can't think of a way to find out without going to one and maybe being surprised by something he oughtn't do.

There is singing, that can be heard all the way from here, but otherwise it's hard to guess. At dinner, they don't discuss services much, just usual things like deployment schedules and world events and scary fights they were in and philosophy debates. Tonight there is an extended argument about what mistakes the church (and Iomedae Herself, though they know less about which decisions were definitely Hers) made in the early years of the Chelish Civil War; people are divided over whether it was hopeless because Asmodeus is a much older and more powerful deity than Iomedae or whether it would've been winnable if Aroden's death hadn't been such a hit to morale.

He misses singing. But he couldn't anyway.

It makes sense that they're leaving lots of leeway around Iomedae's decisions so they're never committed to the position that she made a mistake. Interestingly suggestive that they're identifying Asmodeus as more powerful but he supposes if these things are real that might just be a fact.

"Are we expecting to hear back from Ibyabek," someone asks him later in the evening. "Should we be scrying them again."

"I'm not sure. They aren't accustomed to contact of this kind and I can't be sure what reaction my father will have gotten if he chose to tell anyone instead of - checking himself into a hospital. It may be prudent to scry again."

"Lemme flag someone down." And the same person who scried last time is fetched, and starts another one.

Kyeo attempts to organize his thoughts about what to say, though really it'll depend on what they see.

As before it takes an hour; the man works mostly in silence, humming to himself, something upbeat. Marching music.

Kyeo sways slightly to the rhythm. Doesn't try to hum along even once he has the tune.

Kyeo's father is - asleep, in the dark, beside Kyeo's mother.

"- can you get a closer look at that object," Kyeo says, pointing, "so I'll know what time it is there and we won't have this problem again?"

"Scries can't move much." He tries tilting it a bit, though.

Kyeo squints. "Can't tell," he finally concludes, shaking his head. "It looks full dark, though, he won't be up in the next ten minutes. I suppose if Mother's there he hasn't checked into a hospital."

"We can try again in the morning, if you'd like."

"It's probably necessary."

"All right." He looks piercingly at Kyeo. "You don't have to return, if you'd prefer not to."

"It doesn't speak poorly of a place if it's not for everyone. And sometimes it can help to start over somewhere new."

"My father and I don't tend to cross paths under most circumstances."

He nods. "It was brave of you, then, to try to get this important information to official attention through him, even though you're estranged."

"Thank you."

"He should be proud of you, even if he won't be." And he turns to leave.

That's not exactly the thing, but Kyeo doesn't want to explain to himself what it is, let alone these people.

He goes back to not doing much.

They try the scry again in the morning. It takes two tries but eventually works.

Suor's awake. He's at his desk, in his office, on the phone. "Can you hear him?" Kyeo asks.

"Yes." And he tries to repeat what he heard without understanding it.

"I don't have context on - who he's calling, or - but it seems to me like he may not have passed up the report. - it would sound very crazy."