[ Viktor's fingers tickle. It's the strangest awareness to have - the idea that certainly no one had ever been foolish enough to attempt to do something like that to him, and the fact that Viktor wasn't doing it intentionally. He was, as far as Emet-Selch could tell, simply fascinated by the normalcy of curved ears. More than that - Emet-Selch doesn't expect the way just the faintest brush of warmth over his ears seems to have a direct line to the coals stoked in his belly; he'd thought himself exhausted but were Viktor to keep that up too much longer he might reconsider the benefits of tumbling Viktor again. They could manage in the bath.

This is, of course, the danger he'd feared. Too indulgent, all the years of work putting up the barriers necessary to achieve their great work tumbled down in the span of a few years by Viktor. Maddening. ]

This new world you envision must have more bells in a day than we currently have.

[ There is something to be said for the ease of sleeping for ages, though. While mortals cannot manage such a thing, Emet-Selch thinks that it would not be so terrible to try to get as close to such a thing as was possible. He thinks to argue, to be contrary, like it's built into his very aether, this inability to let this go, to allow Viktor the same indulgences he would have allowed Hythlodaeus and Aepymetes without a second thought ages prior. The rubble Vitkor must manage to make his way through after crashing that wall down, he thinks wryly, and hands over both the soap and washcloth with a sigh. ]

Only because arguing further would delay us retiring to bed and I am very much looking forward to what little sleep we will manage to grasp tonight.