"I know what you mean," Isamu said, the wind tugging at the back of his clothes, pushing him forward, so he took a slight step towards Wufei, giving in to whatever it wished, "The gods are usually as insistent in their messages to me, but it was hard to deny it that day and all that I've felt sense. We're in their hands, whatever that may mean," he didn't look away from Wufei as he spoke, unable and unwilling to, captivated by the slight flush painting the man's cheek and the reverence with which he spoke, as if feeling the sacred pull of the land. "Perhaps, we should offer a prayer ourselves to them then, something to say we trust them to lead us in the path they have deigned, I'm sure they'd appreicate it."