[ Viktor takes in the change with no small amount of awe. Emet-Selch's quick illusions are nothing new. The man regularly works miracles every day, but Viktor always manages to find a way to glimpse them from unusual angles, ever spotting new things to be impressed by. Here, it's the way the brilliant amethyst of Lakeland vanishes under the curtain of an unfamiliar landscape. He turns this way and that, taking in the scene. Lifts a hand and lights fingers on the threads of spell work settled over them, letting the image ripple like the surface of clear water. ]
It looks- it looks no different than any odd morning.
[ Not at all as Amaurot had seemed, in Emet-Selch's approximation of its Final Days. Nor Thavnair and Gridania upon his return from Elpis. The burning skies have not spread this far, wherever this place is, at least. And as long as these pockets of peace persist, they will have something to rebuild from. ]
I-it does. Give me peace, I mean. Those who insisted on staying, some of our strongest, our bravest. That they yet have fertile soil in which to p-plant their sorrows- they will endure, 'til we can bring them a new song. I am sure.
[ Though he longs to stare at this glimpse of his home, whole and almost happy, a bit longer, he does not. He tears his wisteria gaze away from the idyllic landscape and fixes his attention on Emet-Selch, who did not have the luxury of green meadows left in the wake of his paradise lost. Viktor reaches out, settling his palm over one of Emet-Selch's hands. He can think of nothing more to say, no way to convey the strange melancholy he feels, and so he just squeezes his hand. ]
And evidently, their food stores were yet undisturbed as well? [ A slight smile. ] 'Til you came by, of course. You knew of this place ahead of time, then? You didn't just s-stumble upon it?
[ Idly, Viktor reaches back behind himself, finding a far-too-freakishly-large cluster of grapes right away, and plucks them from the vine with a bit of effort. It is harder than he expects, the plant made stronger for his aether, he supposes. He selects a large grape and - Stars, they really are near as big as plums, and examines it. The thing near sings with magic. Not that that has ever stopped him from eating something. He doesn't quite dig in, yet, though. ]
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It looks- it looks no different than any odd morning.
[ Not at all as Amaurot had seemed, in Emet-Selch's approximation of its Final Days. Nor Thavnair and Gridania upon his return from Elpis. The burning skies have not spread this far, wherever this place is, at least. And as long as these pockets of peace persist, they will have something to rebuild from. ]
I-it does. Give me peace, I mean. Those who insisted on staying, some of our strongest, our bravest. That they yet have fertile soil in which to p-plant their sorrows- they will endure, 'til we can bring them a new song. I am sure.
[ Though he longs to stare at this glimpse of his home, whole and almost happy, a bit longer, he does not. He tears his wisteria gaze away from the idyllic landscape and fixes his attention on Emet-Selch, who did not have the luxury of green meadows left in the wake of his paradise lost. Viktor reaches out, settling his palm over one of Emet-Selch's hands. He can think of nothing more to say, no way to convey the strange melancholy he feels, and so he just squeezes his hand. ]
And evidently, their food stores were yet undisturbed as well? [ A slight smile. ] 'Til you came by, of course. You knew of this place ahead of time, then? You didn't just s-stumble upon it?
[ Idly, Viktor reaches back behind himself, finding a far-too-freakishly-large cluster of grapes right away, and plucks them from the vine with a bit of effort. It is harder than he expects, the plant made stronger for his aether, he supposes. He selects a large grape and - Stars, they really are near as big as plums, and examines it. The thing near sings with magic. Not that that has ever stopped him from eating something. He doesn't quite dig in, yet, though. ]