[ Not happen again, he says, and Viktor does not expect the ache that threads itself between the gaps in his ribs and pulls something taut. As a rule, he tries not to ask questions he does not want to know the answer to, but supposes he must stumble into them eventually, from time to time. These copies are mere puppets. Less than mammets, as like. They will not wonder at their existence. They will not hurt when they are unamde. They would not make for fine companions for the shade hidden beneath the sea. Hythlodaeus, not Hythlodaeus, who sees the world with a clarity near to the original, who sits alone in the dark. ]
Bed together, eh? [ A faint grin. ] 'Tis quite the useful spell. [ Mumbled, filling a silence while he thinks. Not the time now, but later, he will ask about the dream thing Emet-Selch bottled up. Can it think? Could it be planted in Amaurot, cultivated into something more, something that would be whole enough for Hythlodaeus, so that he is not alone? Would it be welcome? Could the two of them figure a way to do more than that, still? Or does such thinking cross over into the sort of Wrong that stokes angry fire?
A difficult conversation. For later. For now, Viktor settles on: ] Do not let me learn it or you will never know when I am actually at-t-tending those logistics meetings in the Crystarium again.
[ And then, they're both gone. It is disorienting, watching the real Emet-Selch fade to nothing and being left with a base simulacrum. Viktor stares a moment longer, like he might glimpse some truth about the real man if he can spot some oddity in his copy, but the false Hades simply sees to his tea, entirely normal.
Invisibility feels near exactly as Viktor had expected, light as damp air on a late spring night, faintly fizzling against his skin, making him perpetually aware of its presence. ]
It's like starlight. [ Viktor says of the magic, a touch of wonder in his voice. On instinct, he reaches out for where he thinks Emet-Selch's hand still lingers - where he can feel his presence. ] I assume your s-sight means I am still visible to you. C'mon then.
[ Whether or not he manages the brush of fingertips he seeks, he turns, opens the door, and slips out into the chilly fortress. Viktor trusts that Emet-Selch will follow as he slinks light-footed down the hall, hugging walls as he turns corners, mindful of the few people still out wandering, but not so overly cautious as to slow them down. He is, plainly, practiced at sneaking - good to know he hasn't gotten rusty in the years since necessarily transforming from shadow to beacon.
Few true obstacles stand in their way. The closest thing they arrive at to trouble is Viktor needing to stop himself from giggling over a guard so disengaged from his station that he sits hunched over a romance novel, reading by candle light. With minimal fuss Viktor navigates to the inner courtyard, bringing Emet-Selch to the root cellar with the confidence of someone who has lived and worked here for years.
Annoyingly low ceiling aside, it's not unpleasant beneath the castle. Cold, but not too cold, and well kept, smelling only of earth. Viktor turns this way and that, orienting himself, and then makes his way to the sparsely stocked shelf that he is near positive hides a passageway. ]
no subject
Bed together, eh? [ A faint grin. ] 'Tis quite the useful spell. [ Mumbled, filling a silence while he thinks. Not the time now, but later, he will ask about the dream thing Emet-Selch bottled up. Can it think? Could it be planted in Amaurot, cultivated into something more, something that would be whole enough for Hythlodaeus, so that he is not alone? Would it be welcome? Could the two of them figure a way to do more than that, still? Or does such thinking cross over into the sort of Wrong that stokes angry fire?
A difficult conversation. For later. For now, Viktor settles on: ] Do not let me learn it or you will never know when I am actually at-t-tending those logistics meetings in the Crystarium again.
[ And then, they're both gone. It is disorienting, watching the real Emet-Selch fade to nothing and being left with a base simulacrum. Viktor stares a moment longer, like he might glimpse some truth about the real man if he can spot some oddity in his copy, but the false Hades simply sees to his tea, entirely normal.
Invisibility feels near exactly as Viktor had expected, light as damp air on a late spring night, faintly fizzling against his skin, making him perpetually aware of its presence. ]
It's like starlight. [ Viktor says of the magic, a touch of wonder in his voice. On instinct, he reaches out for where he thinks Emet-Selch's hand still lingers - where he can feel his presence. ] I assume your s-sight means I am still visible to you. C'mon then.
[ Whether or not he manages the brush of fingertips he seeks, he turns, opens the door, and slips out into the chilly fortress. Viktor trusts that Emet-Selch will follow as he slinks light-footed down the hall, hugging walls as he turns corners, mindful of the few people still out wandering, but not so overly cautious as to slow them down. He is, plainly, practiced at sneaking - good to know he hasn't gotten rusty in the years since necessarily transforming from shadow to beacon.
Few true obstacles stand in their way. The closest thing they arrive at to trouble is Viktor needing to stop himself from giggling over a guard so disengaged from his station that he sits hunched over a romance novel, reading by candle light. With minimal fuss Viktor navigates to the inner courtyard, bringing Emet-Selch to the root cellar with the confidence of someone who has lived and worked here for years.
Annoyingly low ceiling aside, it's not unpleasant beneath the castle. Cold, but not too cold, and well kept, smelling only of earth. Viktor turns this way and that, orienting himself, and then makes his way to the sparsely stocked shelf that he is near positive hides a passageway. ]
'Tis beyond here, I think. The way down.