[Now that's a thought. His eyes drift from the brief examination of a nearby tree (far more crooked than what sparks joy, truth be told) to Emet-Selch's face, and his hand rises to his chin.]
Well, now. That would be a point- and as ever, finely made. [A light tap or two follows before his hand drops.] And it would beg the question as to whether or not our benefactors even have the means to return all to as it were.
[Surely anyone, no matter how poorly versed, with the power to call would also have the means to dismiss. But with what he's seen of the summonings so far, what he's described, and of course, Emet-Selch's own reservations, that one really can't be assumed. And...]
...I suppose if it were me churlish or selfish enough to call for aid from those of worlds beyond, I would only be inclined to release them if they played their parts in a manner most exemplary.
[It's speculation, most certainly. And it comes with an ill-feeling. The stakes were made quite clear at his summoning- that people wished to do this star harm. Even without speculation, it's clear. If anything happened to the star, their means of returning (if it even existed) would more than likely be destroyed alongside it.
It's an ill feeling for sure. Yet. Brooding never accomplished anything, and there's that other little statement, which yes. He absolutely understands the meaning of it. And yes, it lifts him.
He finds the corners of his mouth quirking upward slightly, his eyes forming the shape of crescents. Yes, it runs through his mind to be glib and come out with some line suggesting inadequacy- but really. Some things were beyond even their well-tread and comfortable little joke. And this? It spurs a warmth he hadn't felt in too long.
His hand rises once more to move a lock of his hair behind his ear, and, impishly-]
Good! I must confess, I would be simply devastated were things to be otherwise.
[He could go on, but their destination comes into view, and frankly- from the lack of anything else around- it must be their destination.
It's... certainly not any of Amaurot's buildings- marvels of engineering and design all. The dwelling, like the others he has noticed here, does not have any ambition to cradle the sky. It is not adorned with intricately worked glass, nor beautiful in any kind of symmetry. More brick and slab and stone, made well, most certainly, yet without a single mote of elegance.
But it is wonderful. In a completely different sense. He turns to his friend, and he smiles.]
no subject
Well, now. That would be a point- and as ever, finely made. [A light tap or two follows before his hand drops.] And it would beg the question as to whether or not our benefactors even have the means to return all to as it were.
[Surely anyone, no matter how poorly versed, with the power to call would also have the means to dismiss. But with what he's seen of the summonings so far, what he's described, and of course, Emet-Selch's own reservations, that one really can't be assumed. And...]
...I suppose if it were me churlish or selfish enough to call for aid from those of worlds beyond, I would only be inclined to release them if they played their parts in a manner most exemplary.
[It's speculation, most certainly. And it comes with an ill-feeling. The stakes were made quite clear at his summoning- that people wished to do this star harm. Even without speculation, it's clear. If anything happened to the star, their means of returning (if it even existed) would more than likely be destroyed alongside it.
It's an ill feeling for sure.
Yet. Brooding never accomplished anything, and there's that other little statement, which yes. He absolutely understands the meaning of it. And yes, it lifts him.
He finds the corners of his mouth quirking upward slightly, his eyes forming the shape of crescents. Yes, it runs through his mind to be glib and come out with some line suggesting inadequacy- but really. Some things were beyond even their well-tread and comfortable little joke. And this? It spurs a warmth he hadn't felt in too long.
His hand rises once more to move a lock of his hair behind his ear, and, impishly-]
Good! I must confess, I would be simply devastated were things to be otherwise.
[He could go on, but their destination comes into view, and frankly- from the lack of anything else around- it must be their destination.
It's... certainly not any of Amaurot's buildings- marvels of engineering and design all. The dwelling, like the others he has noticed here, does not have any ambition to cradle the sky. It is not adorned with intricately worked glass, nor beautiful in any kind of symmetry. More brick and slab and stone, made well, most certainly, yet without a single mote of elegance.
But it is wonderful. In a completely different sense.
He turns to his friend, and he smiles.]
My, you have done well.