[Indeed, the comfort of having similar features to someone- be it eyes, ears, a nose or even a mouth provides can never truly be understated. It was hardly as if he did not feel welcome before. Yet now he feels the scenario has changed. He feels that Claude is far less wary. Relaxed enough to take his joke as one...
...And to give his answer. An answer that sounds rather harrowing, truth be told, and rather candid.]
Even if you were, thankfully, not within her sights, and even if what happened was of direct benefit to you- It still sounds like quite the terrible affair. And dare I say, rather fitting to most accounts of dragonkind in the literature I've glanced upon. Most accounts I've read revere them for the destruction they wreak more than aught else.
[It certainly makes him wonder, actually, of why indeed any written account should be so very impressed by something that could bring about quite so much harm. A quirk of mankind's nature, perhaps? A regrettable branch of evolution that coveted the most extreme form of violence? However. That is unvoiced. It is rather heavy. Instead...]
A few are, yes. Some are very dear to me. [Emet-Selch. Elidibus. Himeka.] Some, regrettably, are not. [Thancred, after all, had his trust for the sake of the fact he cared about the latter of those dear to him. Yet his affection? Not quite. And although he had not sensed him for a while...
Fandaniel, or what had called itself by that name, was anything but dear.]
...Saying that, I've grown rather fond of quite a few people from other worlds as well. All perversions of the natural order our summonings have caused aside, I cannot help but confess that I feel somewhat fortunate to have shared the company of a few men and women I'd have never imagined possible, were all to be well.
[Special men and women, he is most certain- even without the fanfare that was part and parcel of being Summoned- they seem to have something about them.
Perhaps Claude would prove himself the same. Not least possessive of a special form of perception- proved by the fact he seemed to simply know that Hythlodaeus' presence was courtesy of Solvunn's mages in particular. That or the smell of farmland likely clung to him as a dead giveaway, even here within this Horizon.
...And what a lovely Horizon it is. He leans back in the chair that holds him, just enough to feel the sunlight upon his face as his eyes close, ever so briefly. It is pleasant- he thinks. Highly so. Reminiscent of a memory of the time of the year when the sun lingered for far longer in the sky than it really had any right to- illuminating all with burnished gold, and a warmth mingled with a light, so gentle breeze. It is warm, but not too warm. Perfect, actually.
Well. Perfect until the tea is poured. Hythlodaeus' eyes open sharply. ...The smell emanating from the pot and the cup is simply repulsive. It conjures the smell of damp rot, and earth, and...]
...!
[A glance to Claude's eyes, and then the teapot. And as he does his utmost to cover his nose without seeming overly rude...]
...Do forgive me for asking, but has the water turned?
no subject
...And to give his answer. An answer that sounds rather harrowing, truth be told, and rather candid.]
Even if you were, thankfully, not within her sights, and even if what happened was of direct benefit to you- It still sounds like quite the terrible affair. And dare I say, rather fitting to most accounts of dragonkind in the literature I've glanced upon. Most accounts I've read revere them for the destruction they wreak more than aught else.
[It certainly makes him wonder, actually, of why indeed any written account should be so very impressed by something that could bring about quite so much harm. A quirk of mankind's nature, perhaps? A regrettable branch of evolution that coveted the most extreme form of violence? However. That is unvoiced. It is rather heavy. Instead...]
A few are, yes. Some are very dear to me. [Emet-Selch. Elidibus. Himeka.] Some, regrettably, are not. [Thancred, after all, had his trust for the sake of the fact he cared about the latter of those dear to him. Yet his affection? Not quite. And although he had not sensed him for a while...
Fandaniel, or what had called itself by that name, was anything but dear.]
...Saying that, I've grown rather fond of quite a few people from other worlds as well. All perversions of the natural order our summonings have caused aside, I cannot help but confess that I feel somewhat fortunate to have shared the company of a few men and women I'd have never imagined possible, were all to be well.
[Special men and women, he is most certain- even without the fanfare that was part and parcel of being Summoned- they seem to have something about them.
Perhaps Claude would prove himself the same. Not least possessive of a special form of perception- proved by the fact he seemed to simply know that Hythlodaeus' presence was courtesy of Solvunn's mages in particular. That or the smell of farmland likely clung to him as a dead giveaway, even here within this Horizon.
...And what a lovely Horizon it is.
He leans back in the chair that holds him, just enough to feel the sunlight upon his face as his eyes close, ever so briefly. It is pleasant- he thinks. Highly so. Reminiscent of a memory of the time of the year when the sun lingered for far longer in the sky than it really had any right to- illuminating all with burnished gold, and a warmth mingled with a light, so gentle breeze. It is warm, but not too warm. Perfect, actually.
Well. Perfect until the tea is poured. Hythlodaeus' eyes open sharply. ...The smell emanating from the pot and the cup is simply repulsive. It conjures the smell of damp rot, and earth, and...]
...!
[A glance to Claude's eyes, and then the teapot. And as he does his utmost to cover his nose without seeming overly rude...]
...Do forgive me for asking, but has the water turned?