Inigo says it softly, but he seems very serious in his words. Not serious in the bad sort of way, where he seems to go all emotionless, but.. just in a genuine sort of way. Like he really means it, as he glances at the artpieces around the room and the people quietly looking at them.
".. I think they just don't realise it."
After all, there's nothing as direct to tell you that. There's no growling stomach, no eyes that keep falling shut from exhaustion.
But living without art, without joy.. that sucks away your soul. Inigo still remembers how miserable the people in Ylisse looked, how easy it was for Brady to cheer up a kid by playing the violin some.
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Inigo says it softly, but he seems very serious in his words. Not serious in the bad sort of way, where he seems to go all emotionless, but.. just in a genuine sort of way. Like he really means it, as he glances at the artpieces around the room and the people quietly looking at them.
".. I think they just don't realise it."
After all, there's nothing as direct to tell you that. There's no growling stomach, no eyes that keep falling shut from exhaustion.
But living without art, without joy.. that sucks away your soul. Inigo still remembers how miserable the people in Ylisse looked, how easy it was for Brady to cheer up a kid by playing the violin some.