[ He knows Viktor speaks from experience. To be so young and saddled with the duty and obligation Hydaelyn had thrust upon her most favored was a curse, not a blessing of light. Zodiark had not similarly blessed or cursed these children - they were simply gifted the abilities that were their due, but there was a reason why they spent countless years educating on the scale and scope of those powers.
In an ideal world, sundered as they are without any rejoinings, they will be minimally powerful. The equivalent of an ant beneath a boot. Near as soon as he has the thought, guilt swells within him, like Viktor can somehow hear how easily he slides back into old habits of thinking. They are children. It would be easier - better, in many ways, for them to simply listen to him. Emet-Selch would never consider himself to be someone particularly good with children, but he supposes that is a skillset he must hone rather quickly if he wants this not to end in violence and bloodshed.
He finishes eating, tidying with a snap before Viktor has finished, eager to get this over and done with, to find out which of the options he will encounter upon finally making contact rather than lingering in this liminal space of potential nightmare. To shrug Solus on once again takes the faintest bit of magic, but no small amount of effort. Viktor's crafted clothes melt into long robes, a quick stroke of his hand through bed-mussed hair shortens it and a second carding of his fingers through his hair forces it to lay at least somewhat neatly, how it used to.
That he mislikes wearing this form, he supposes, is a type of progress. ] I will bear your- [ he stalls, finishing off his tea while he thinks of a word that won't sound condescending when he is attempting to be genuine ] - wisdom in mind.
[ For now, he circles around to Viktor's side and after a beat of hesitation, curves fingers against Viktor's jaw enough to tilt his chin up. He balks at the idea of kissing Viktor like this - not himself, exactly, but does press a lingering kiss against Viktor's brow. How jarring, he thinks, to have someone who he would dearly miss were anything to happen to them. Thousands of years ago, when one of them would leave, there might be a joke about not getting maimed or injured while out, but there was a lightness to it; they had never expected real, world-ending danger. Now, they contended with it every day. ]
You will keep yourself safe while I am gone. Ideally, also out of trouble. Aye?
no subject
In an ideal world, sundered as they are without any rejoinings, they will be minimally powerful. The equivalent of an ant beneath a boot. Near as soon as he has the thought, guilt swells within him, like Viktor can somehow hear how easily he slides back into old habits of thinking. They are children. It would be easier - better, in many ways, for them to simply listen to him. Emet-Selch would never consider himself to be someone particularly good with children, but he supposes that is a skillset he must hone rather quickly if he wants this not to end in violence and bloodshed.
He finishes eating, tidying with a snap before Viktor has finished, eager to get this over and done with, to find out which of the options he will encounter upon finally making contact rather than lingering in this liminal space of potential nightmare. To shrug Solus on once again takes the faintest bit of magic, but no small amount of effort. Viktor's crafted clothes melt into long robes, a quick stroke of his hand through bed-mussed hair shortens it and a second carding of his fingers through his hair forces it to lay at least somewhat neatly, how it used to.
That he mislikes wearing this form, he supposes, is a type of progress. ] I will bear your- [ he stalls, finishing off his tea while he thinks of a word that won't sound condescending when he is attempting to be genuine ] - wisdom in mind.
[ For now, he circles around to Viktor's side and after a beat of hesitation, curves fingers against Viktor's jaw enough to tilt his chin up. He balks at the idea of kissing Viktor like this - not himself, exactly, but does press a lingering kiss against Viktor's brow. How jarring, he thinks, to have someone who he would dearly miss were anything to happen to them. Thousands of years ago, when one of them would leave, there might be a joke about not getting maimed or injured while out, but there was a lightness to it; they had never expected real, world-ending danger. Now, they contended with it every day. ]
You will keep yourself safe while I am gone. Ideally, also out of trouble. Aye?