[ He'd intended to make something of a shooting gallery out of the hallway, to make up for the stark lack of fun he knows he's being, but once again Viktor surprises him. Distracted with the laughter, the thought of embroidery and just what it is Viktor would create, Emet-Selch almost misses the neat bit of magic he weaves from the daggers' aether.
For an absurd, insane moment, he thinks of the soldiers who'd tried to curry favor with officers, draping tarps or sheets upon mud so they could walk easily, and amends that thought; more like a suitor, sweeping off their jacket. As much as he wishes he had maintained enough hardness to stand firm in the face of this, Viktor has chiseled steadily away at the most calcified parts of him and left what's beneath tender and exposed. He steps carefully onto the pathway, robes lifted ilms above his ankles, and resolutely does not feel a little embarrassed by how pleased he is by the gesture. ]
Close them off. If I knew I would have the time... well. 'Tis almost certain I will not, and the best option is to close them all off, save for one or two which would be guarded far better than the Sharlayans' middling attempts.
[ He doesn't recall building this one, even if it is admittedly done adjacent to his taste. Doesn't recall if he even was the one to do it, or if one of the others did, or if they'd simply outsourced it and handled the last bit. Stepping through a portal from somewhere into the foyer was always his preferred method of getting around - no spiderwebs, no creepy crawlies, no dust making your nose itch fiercely. ]
'Twould be a trifle to do so, and in some cases it may have already occurred. I'd quite forgotten any of this was here. I suppose we might have built it, ages ago, but...
[ His footsteps still, looking at the walls properly and oh, of course. He can see Hydaelyn's magic streaking through the walls here, faded, but still like blue veins leading their way to the dead heart. Had she made this place, knowing he would someday walk these halls, had she known? Or was it some sort of homage to - stars. He doesn't want to think about this.
He blinks, mouth set in an unhappy little line, striding forward a touch quicker. They hit a point going low enough that the tethers of magic that reach for him in welcome are barely tinged with Her at all and he only feels a little petty at stretching his power, his awareness out like shaking out dusty old sheets, tucking the corners in. ]
Have I the time and inclination, it may be worth attempting to create a shortened path between each. A nightmare, to be certain, if anyone who ought not to have access does gain access, but far easier to transition souls from one shard to the next if they've returned to the sea, if we've a worst case scenario.
no subject
For an absurd, insane moment, he thinks of the soldiers who'd tried to curry favor with officers, draping tarps or sheets upon mud so they could walk easily, and amends that thought; more like a suitor, sweeping off their jacket. As much as he wishes he had maintained enough hardness to stand firm in the face of this, Viktor has chiseled steadily away at the most calcified parts of him and left what's beneath tender and exposed. He steps carefully onto the pathway, robes lifted ilms above his ankles, and resolutely does not feel a little embarrassed by how pleased he is by the gesture. ]
Close them off. If I knew I would have the time... well. 'Tis almost certain I will not, and the best option is to close them all off, save for one or two which would be guarded far better than the Sharlayans' middling attempts.
[ He doesn't recall building this one, even if it is admittedly done adjacent to his taste. Doesn't recall if he even was the one to do it, or if one of the others did, or if they'd simply outsourced it and handled the last bit. Stepping through a portal from somewhere into the foyer was always his preferred method of getting around - no spiderwebs, no creepy crawlies, no dust making your nose itch fiercely. ]
'Twould be a trifle to do so, and in some cases it may have already occurred. I'd quite forgotten any of this was here. I suppose we might have built it, ages ago, but...
[ His footsteps still, looking at the walls properly and oh, of course. He can see Hydaelyn's magic streaking through the walls here, faded, but still like blue veins leading their way to the dead heart. Had she made this place, knowing he would someday walk these halls, had she known? Or was it some sort of homage to - stars. He doesn't want to think about this.
He blinks, mouth set in an unhappy little line, striding forward a touch quicker. They hit a point going low enough that the tethers of magic that reach for him in welcome are barely tinged with Her at all and he only feels a little petty at stretching his power, his awareness out like shaking out dusty old sheets, tucking the corners in. ]
Have I the time and inclination, it may be worth attempting to create a shortened path between each. A nightmare, to be certain, if anyone who ought not to have access does gain access, but far easier to transition souls from one shard to the next if they've returned to the sea, if we've a worst case scenario.