[ A single, bright pop of laughter that spills out of Viktor at the command to stop whining, and it speaks volumes. The sort of sound that comes only with thorough knowledge of Emet-Selch's penchant for impressively dramatic soliloquy when annoyed. ]
I'll have you know, had I the time and inclination, I could turn those c-carapaces into one h-hell of an impressive piece of embroidery.
[ The same sort of iridescent black as Azem's mask. Carved and polished, stitched into a flowing robe - it'd be the sort of garment he'd wear to the sort of thing Emet-Selch would rather be doing, going to the theater or attending a gallery showing. Maybe he'll stomp back down here again sometime and harvest one to serve as a reference for when they return to the First. Maybe, someday, they will go and see shows and look at art from ages past, and Hades will tell him all the sordid little details behind every story, statue, and painting.
As it stands, though, they do have better, more important things to do. And it is late, and he, cold. So he takes the remaining daggers in both hands and unmakes them between his palms. The raw aether he winds up and tosses. It unfurls before him, now a length of simple, rough fabric that settles over the insectoid gore, offering an ichor-free walkway for the both of them. ]
M-mind where you s-step. I imagine it's fairly slick.
[ Viktor navigates with ease, of course, trudging deeper into the dark, undaunted by the seemingly endless hall. No entrance to the Sea is easy to reach in Viktor's experience, and the polished black tiles that dot the walls, floor, and ceiling tell him there's a very good chance he will find one here, should he walk long enough.
After a lengthy silence, he glances back over his shoulder. The absence behind him does not startle him, but only because he can feel Hades there. ]
What will you do... with all these entrances to the Sea, after? S-some do already have adequate guards, I suppose. D-do you intend to find all of them, shore up protections?
lmao for some reason it replied as a whole new top level??
I'll have you know, had I the time and inclination, I could turn those c-carapaces into one h-hell of an impressive piece of embroidery.
[ The same sort of iridescent black as Azem's mask. Carved and polished, stitched into a flowing robe - it'd be the sort of garment he'd wear to the sort of thing Emet-Selch would rather be doing, going to the theater or attending a gallery showing. Maybe he'll stomp back down here again sometime and harvest one to serve as a reference for when they return to the First. Maybe, someday, they will go and see shows and look at art from ages past, and Hades will tell him all the sordid little details behind every story, statue, and painting.
As it stands, though, they do have better, more important things to do. And it is late, and he, cold. So he takes the remaining daggers in both hands and unmakes them between his palms. The raw aether he winds up and tosses. It unfurls before him, now a length of simple, rough fabric that settles over the insectoid gore, offering an ichor-free walkway for the both of them. ]
M-mind where you s-step. I imagine it's fairly slick.
[ Viktor navigates with ease, of course, trudging deeper into the dark, undaunted by the seemingly endless hall. No entrance to the Sea is easy to reach in Viktor's experience, and the polished black tiles that dot the walls, floor, and ceiling tell him there's a very good chance he will find one here, should he walk long enough.
After a lengthy silence, he glances back over his shoulder. The absence behind him does not startle him, but only because he can feel Hades there. ]
What will you do... with all these entrances to the Sea, after? S-some do already have adequate guards, I suppose. D-do you intend to find all of them, shore up protections?