The need for some privacy in this is something no one has to voice, at least. As Buttercup starts to cry, the sutra on Koumyou's shoulders stirs, tendrils winding out into the air behind them and around the little shrine to form a tightly-woven shield. Sound from outside will still come through, but the cold air stops moving around so much.

And... the priest's not sure if it's a good idea or not, because he knows she follows a darkness god, but... well, that god sounds like a dick. Honestly. So, the tendrils glow. Not blinding, like they easily could be. Just a warm gold that matches the candle's light perfectly.

And still, he chants, and his hand remains.