[ He does not watch Viktor lick honey from his fingers, he cannot watch that, and allow his mind to run rampant. Instead, he takes to unpacking cheeses and crackers and bread with militant efficiency, settling items out on plates and platters, slicing cheese into neat chunks, mulling over the answer he wants to give. ]
I do not recall their name or who they were.
[ Should he? He had to have been told their name originally; that had to be a part of the process where he was censured and educated on why he had made a foolish decision, but he doesn't recall the name itself. It hadn't been important. The color of their soul had been a muted tawny brown, and that memory stuck with him, useless. ]
There were occasions where those studying for one position or another were expected to create something outside of their baseline capability. One could grow into the ability, one they learned how to manage themselves and their aether. But every so often there would be someone - a student, a member of one of the Words - who pushed too hard without someone there to assist and supplement and they would drain themselves.
[ Emet-Selch plucks a piece of bread free once he's cut enough slices, and begins layering honey, goat cheese, thinly sliced meat and only once it's finished does he hand it thoughtlessly off to Viktor before doing it again for himself. ]
They did, and I was the fool who attempted to grasp their soul, to keep them here long enough to supplement their aether with my own reserves, without knowing how or understanding what I'd done. I was young. Foolish.
no subject
I do not recall their name or who they were.
[ Should he? He had to have been told their name originally; that had to be a part of the process where he was censured and educated on why he had made a foolish decision, but he doesn't recall the name itself. It hadn't been important. The color of their soul had been a muted tawny brown, and that memory stuck with him, useless. ]
There were occasions where those studying for one position or another were expected to create something outside of their baseline capability. One could grow into the ability, one they learned how to manage themselves and their aether. But every so often there would be someone - a student, a member of one of the Words - who pushed too hard without someone there to assist and supplement and they would drain themselves.
[ Emet-Selch plucks a piece of bread free once he's cut enough slices, and begins layering honey, goat cheese, thinly sliced meat and only once it's finished does he hand it thoughtlessly off to Viktor before doing it again for himself. ]
They did, and I was the fool who attempted to grasp their soul, to keep them here long enough to supplement their aether with my own reserves, without knowing how or understanding what I'd done. I was young. Foolish.