[ Viktor loves this. The little gap where he can watch Emet-Selch reject and then reconsider an idea — his idea. A little like pulling pigtails, there's a strange sort of thrill in tripping up the most eminent Emet-Selch. Epiphany paints his features with a glow Viktor would love to lock into place, but likes even better as something fleeting. A lucky thing for him, and only him, to catch. ]
Oh, very well. [ Viktor makes a show of sounding put out, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't welcome the reprieve from potentially being stopped every ten fulms to help someone with something.
He rises and fetches his robe, stopping to watch with plain wonder as a second him manifests, tucks in near the fire and produces an embroidery hoop to work on. It is distractingly strange, seeing two Hadeses, a second himself, but eventually Viktor puts his attention back on his robe.
Emet-Selch urges silence, and so Viktor turns the thing 'round in his hand. ]
Do they think? [ He asks as he examines his coat. Like picking fuzz, he touches and tugs at it, moving aetheric threads and turning any metal bits that might make noise into softer embroidered embellishments. Then he pulls the robe on, fastens and smooths it down, and cinches any bits he deems too flowy, sleeves that might get caught, an excessively long sash.
He cannot help but crane his neck to try and get a better look at the new silhouette. The end result is far sleeker than his usual garb, but not bad, all things considered. He tips his attention back to Emet-Selch with a grin, dodging the false copy as he makes his way toward the exit.
no subject
Oh, very well. [ Viktor makes a show of sounding put out, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't welcome the reprieve from potentially being stopped every ten fulms to help someone with something.
He rises and fetches his robe, stopping to watch with plain wonder as a second him manifests, tucks in near the fire and produces an embroidery hoop to work on. It is distractingly strange, seeing two Hadeses, a second himself, but eventually Viktor puts his attention back on his robe.
Emet-Selch urges silence, and so Viktor turns the thing 'round in his hand. ]
Do they think? [ He asks as he examines his coat. Like picking fuzz, he touches and tugs at it, moving aetheric threads and turning any metal bits that might make noise into softer embroidered embellishments. Then he pulls the robe on, fastens and smooths it down, and cinches any bits he deems too flowy, sleeves that might get caught, an excessively long sash.
He cannot help but crane his neck to try and get a better look at the new silhouette. The end result is far sleeker than his usual garb, but not bad, all things considered. He tips his attention back to Emet-Selch with a grin, dodging the false copy as he makes his way toward the exit.
He wonders if being invisible feels different. ]
Ready. Or sh-shall I do the same for you?