[ It ached to look at Aepymetes full-on, back when he had the ability to. It was not unpleasant, necessarily, but it was a little like staring into the sun, willing his eyes to make sense of the overwhelming brightness and light of the other man's soul. Now, Emet-Selch thinks, he needn't use his soul sight at all. Viktor smiles, bright and unselfconscious, from across the table and Emet-Selch finds the sensation is the same. He looks, memorizes, until Viktor turns his attention back to their meal and Emet-Selch finds himself released from the spell, suddenly able to turn his attention elsewhere again.
He's content to pick at bread until Viktor finishes, only to find the next sentence makes his fingers nearly slip on the bread. Embarrassing. A school? Emet-Selch knows Viktor is quite mad for doing half of what he does, but suggesting a school is--
Well. Once the initial, knee-jerk you must be joking fades and Emet-Selch gives it due consideration, he finds it is not, in fact, a horrific idea if one removes the obvious issues. There is no one else - quite literally, with the same broad experience he has in so many fields. There is no one else, save for the dragons, mayhap, that knows magic of all types the way he does. There is no one else who has dedicated several lifetimes to the pursuit of knowing and understanding that magic. Because the shards couldn't help to harness even a fraction of what they once could, he'd justified it with, but was Viktor not proof that was incorrect? Was Viktor not clear evidence that given time (and rejoining) one could scratch the surface of what once was possible?
Viktor is speaking to him, again, cheerful and intent and Emet-Selch has to wrest himself out of the spiral of too many thoughts, forcibly looking at him, making himself listen rather than get trapped in his head. ]
I'd rather not risk being caught and I've no desire to creep about like a common thief. We shall be invisible, though that invisibility will have no effect on sound. Have a care where you place your feet whilst we walk.
[ He is, annoyingly, speaking from long, old experience of vanishing and spying and then smacking his foot against a desk, the noise, and his swear making it obvious he was creeping about in the old Emet-Selch's offices, attempting to get after-bells reading in. Vexing, what the mind decided was worth keeping, when there was so much he wished had been maintained. ]
When you are ready.
[ It is effortless to snap and make alternate versions of them appear, ghosting through their routine in the main area. From afar - if someone were to peer inside the window, or attempt to knock and grab their attention, they would answer, and speak a rote series of responses when asked. None in the castle would have a high enough understanding of magic to know they were false, unless they attempted to attack them. After a moment of consideration, Emet-Selch feeds a bit more aether into them, makes them a little more real, just in case. The false Emet-Selch sweeps off to make tea, and Emet-Selch himself turns, magic humming at his fingertips, ready to make them both invisible. ]
no subject
He's content to pick at bread until Viktor finishes, only to find the next sentence makes his fingers nearly slip on the bread. Embarrassing. A school? Emet-Selch knows Viktor is quite mad for doing half of what he does, but suggesting a school is--
Well. Once the initial, knee-jerk you must be joking fades and Emet-Selch gives it due consideration, he finds it is not, in fact, a horrific idea if one removes the obvious issues. There is no one else - quite literally, with the same broad experience he has in so many fields. There is no one else, save for the dragons, mayhap, that knows magic of all types the way he does. There is no one else who has dedicated several lifetimes to the pursuit of knowing and understanding that magic. Because the shards couldn't help to harness even a fraction of what they once could, he'd justified it with, but was Viktor not proof that was incorrect? Was Viktor not clear evidence that given time (and rejoining) one could scratch the surface of what once was possible?
Viktor is speaking to him, again, cheerful and intent and Emet-Selch has to wrest himself out of the spiral of too many thoughts, forcibly looking at him, making himself listen rather than get trapped in his head. ]
I'd rather not risk being caught and I've no desire to creep about like a common thief. We shall be invisible, though that invisibility will have no effect on sound. Have a care where you place your feet whilst we walk.
[ He is, annoyingly, speaking from long, old experience of vanishing and spying and then smacking his foot against a desk, the noise, and his swear making it obvious he was creeping about in the old Emet-Selch's offices, attempting to get after-bells reading in. Vexing, what the mind decided was worth keeping, when there was so much he wished had been maintained. ]
When you are ready.
[ It is effortless to snap and make alternate versions of them appear, ghosting through their routine in the main area. From afar - if someone were to peer inside the window, or attempt to knock and grab their attention, they would answer, and speak a rote series of responses when asked. None in the castle would have a high enough understanding of magic to know they were false, unless they attempted to attack them. After a moment of consideration, Emet-Selch feeds a bit more aether into them, makes them a little more real, just in case. The false Emet-Selch sweeps off to make tea, and Emet-Selch himself turns, magic humming at his fingertips, ready to make them both invisible. ]