I can do both. [ Cheekily sniped, with a pursed smile and a bounce of his brows. As though multitasking is the problem.
He illustrates, none the less. Looses his hand from where it lingers at Emet-Selch's crown and slides a cracker onto his tongue, watching all the while with his mismatched eyes. Easy, this way, to take in the thoughtful scowl, the hint of discomfort. Not so easy to stop himself from wondering over what exactly spins 'round and 'round in that busy head of his. Emet-Selch is all uncertainty, and Viktor lacks adequate reassurance. Short of having their mettle tested upon the field of battle - which is coming, he knows, at a dreadful, relentless pace - he has nothing but a promise, but his words. And broken, jagged things they are, are they any good at all?
No great reassurance, certainly. No comfort. Emet-Selch would defy the natural order to save him, and all he can serve up in return, it seems, is doubt and worry. So he lets his gaze fall, attention moving to the flavor of the snack he's sampled as he adds, faintly- ] And Del would not need bribery.
[ This morsel is earthier than the last. Rich and nutty under the savory flavor of cured meat. There are mushrooms in this one, he realizes. Morels, probably. Maybe chanterelles. The sort of thing foraged instead of farm grown, expensive outside the regions where it is found. A seasonal rarity. Decadent. He grabs another of the same assembly and looks it over. ]
'Tis... nice, to be let in. The veil, I mean. When it is lifted, it is not t-too much. I... appreciate that you- that you allow me to ask questions after seeing what I saw.
[ As he stumbles over his words, he selects a pickled bit of vegetable, too, examining the color, considering it a moment before adding it to the cracker and popping the whole assembly into his mouth. That, too, is unusually good. ]
You could tell me about your fancy cheeses, instead. That seems an easier t-topic.
no subject
He illustrates, none the less. Looses his hand from where it lingers at Emet-Selch's crown and slides a cracker onto his tongue, watching all the while with his mismatched eyes. Easy, this way, to take in the thoughtful scowl, the hint of discomfort. Not so easy to stop himself from wondering over what exactly spins 'round and 'round in that busy head of his. Emet-Selch is all uncertainty, and Viktor lacks adequate reassurance. Short of having their mettle tested upon the field of battle - which is coming, he knows, at a dreadful, relentless pace - he has nothing but a promise, but his words. And broken, jagged things they are, are they any good at all?
No great reassurance, certainly. No comfort. Emet-Selch would defy the natural order to save him, and all he can serve up in return, it seems, is doubt and worry. So he lets his gaze fall, attention moving to the flavor of the snack he's sampled as he adds, faintly- ] And Del would not need bribery.
[ This morsel is earthier than the last. Rich and nutty under the savory flavor of cured meat. There are mushrooms in this one, he realizes. Morels, probably. Maybe chanterelles. The sort of thing foraged instead of farm grown, expensive outside the regions where it is found. A seasonal rarity. Decadent. He grabs another of the same assembly and looks it over. ]
'Tis... nice, to be let in. The veil, I mean. When it is lifted, it is not t-too much. I... appreciate that you- that you allow me to ask questions after seeing what I saw.
[ As he stumbles over his words, he selects a pickled bit of vegetable, too, examining the color, considering it a moment before adding it to the cracker and popping the whole assembly into his mouth. That, too, is unusually good. ]
You could tell me about your fancy cheeses, instead. That seems an easier t-topic.