[ Foolishly, he'd assumed Viktor would understand the gravity of the suggestion, but instead of surprise, or even horror at the idea of what Emet-Selch thought Viktor was quite morally opposed to, Viktor seems considering. He will, Emet-Selch thinks, never truly understand Viktor.
So opposed to finding and taking this other version of himself, and yet perfectly happy to let countless mismatched souls graft themselves onto each other. There's a chance that nothing goes wrong, and there are simply souls whose colors are mixed, muddied from their original color. Or the far worse option is the souls begin consolidating, consuming the smaller fragments, warping into something horrific.
The kind of experiment Lahabrea might have tolerated, encouraged, even, near the end with how often he was wearing different people, but one Emet-Selch cannot stomach thinking of. ]
Well, She certainly inflicted no small amount of it upon all of you.
[ As if he didn't, upon Azem specifically. Emet-Selch does not seem to care that it is hypocritical to be so judgmental, pausing again to turn back, tugging at the shadows, tracing a series of lines into the air. Where his fingers drag, shadows follow, a wall and then a door manifesting itself from that wall. There's an audible click as the door locks and then Emet-Selch squeezes lightly at Viktor's hand to let him know they're safe to proceed. ]
We've almost arrived. Can you feel it? [ It is, in fact, a genuine question, uncertain just how much Viktor can feel with their ties and tethers. ]
forgot the rest of the caps UGHHH
So opposed to finding and taking this other version of himself, and yet perfectly happy to let countless mismatched souls graft themselves onto each other. There's a chance that nothing goes wrong, and there are simply souls whose colors are mixed, muddied from their original color. Or the far worse option is the souls begin consolidating, consuming the smaller fragments, warping into something horrific.
The kind of experiment Lahabrea might have tolerated, encouraged, even, near the end with how often he was wearing different people, but one Emet-Selch cannot stomach thinking of. ]
Well, She certainly inflicted no small amount of it upon all of you.
[ As if he didn't, upon Azem specifically. Emet-Selch does not seem to care that it is hypocritical to be so judgmental, pausing again to turn back, tugging at the shadows, tracing a series of lines into the air. Where his fingers drag, shadows follow, a wall and then a door manifesting itself from that wall. There's an audible click as the door locks and then Emet-Selch squeezes lightly at Viktor's hand to let him know they're safe to proceed. ]
We've almost arrived. Can you feel it? [ It is, in fact, a genuine question, uncertain just how much Viktor can feel with their ties and tethers. ]