{ i don't like to hurt people. the statement is sad, has something to it that makes eliot pause. he can be considerate, and be gossipy about others, but there are times when it gets too close and he'll run away. it's too close of a statement. eliot has hurt many people. it's the people that he surrounded himself with that made him realize he could do better, but what is he without them here? there's a faraway gaze that flickers across his face temporarily before he shakes it right out.
instead he ignores the comment. he can tell linhardt is young, despite if he has encountered a jaded time in his home world. there's still the will of a good person there underneath in the statement, and he has always been on the other end of it in his personal view - someone always ends up hurt. eliot glances down at the book and sees the rocks, finds that they are just rocks. it doesn't interest him, which is easy to reach out and take linhardt's hand, opening his palm and settling the book on top. he did notice the protectiveness. }
Don't pout. Here. { nothing else to say there, only that he has stood up and gone to one side of the bookshelf, still close enough to talk. his fingers run along a few spines. }
You could say that. Six, huh. I was fourteen. I have telekinesis and some of my friends had other abilities. We had someone who could hop through worlds. Healing is useful. I could never get that, and yet I could do basic Horomancy.
{ time magic. despite the image he puts out, eliot has his bouts of being capable as far as solving high math in his head. which is making him want to study what it may look at abraxas to get back into it. he's going to need his bottomless flask, he can already tell. eliot leans his back against the bookshelf and just stands there with his arms crossed, an unreadable gaze upon linhardt's excitable one over the mention of magic itself. }
Court politics, gods being shit, magic malfunctioning, something trying to kill you every other week, apocalypses impending. It happens. I say it's no different than Abraxas right now. Actually, I might be safer here.
no subject
instead he ignores the comment. he can tell linhardt is young, despite if he has encountered a jaded time in his home world. there's still the will of a good person there underneath in the statement, and he has always been on the other end of it in his personal view - someone always ends up hurt. eliot glances down at the book and sees the rocks, finds that they are just rocks. it doesn't interest him, which is easy to reach out and take linhardt's hand, opening his palm and settling the book on top. he did notice the protectiveness. }
Don't pout. Here. { nothing else to say there, only that he has stood up and gone to one side of the bookshelf, still close enough to talk. his fingers run along a few spines. }
You could say that. Six, huh. I was fourteen. I have telekinesis and some of my friends had other abilities. We had someone who could hop through worlds. Healing is useful. I could never get that, and yet I could do basic Horomancy.
{ time magic. despite the image he puts out, eliot has his bouts of being capable as far as solving high math in his head. which is making him want to study what it may look at abraxas to get back into it. he's going to need his bottomless flask, he can already tell. eliot leans his back against the bookshelf and just stands there with his arms crossed, an unreadable gaze upon linhardt's excitable one over the mention of magic itself. }
Court politics, gods being shit, magic malfunctioning, something trying to kill you every other week, apocalypses impending. It happens. I say it's no different than Abraxas right now. Actually, I might be safer here.