[ He does not want to shift or coax Viktor's perception any which way, and he absolutely does not want to lift the veil to get a sense of Viktor's perception, not this close to the aetherial sea. Not after their closeness last night, not when he's not fully confident he could fasten the hem back down again.
More than that, though. Emet-Selch simply wants to know how Viktor perceives the sensation of being tethered, what his untrained senses tell him about the expanse laid out before them. The previous Emet-Selch had brought him down without any of the same safeguards, let him foolishly think he could handle the Underworld as he was, and only mocked him a little bit when he'd woken up three days later, still aching like he'd been tossed about against rocks in a running river. Foolish boy, she'd said, peering down the line of her nose at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. She'd been right, of course; she was more often than not.
The horizon, Viktor answers, and Emet-Selch tilts his head, considering. ]
You can feel most of it. [ Impossible, not to be a little condescending, though he tries to temper that condescension a little bit, accepting the tighter grip on his hand, thumb idling over Viktor's knuckles in response. ] I would not recommend attempting to immerse yourself - physically, or otherwise, within the Underworld.
[ Faintly, there is the barest whiff of old, wry embarrassment. ]
To do so would result in. Well. Nothing we have time for currently. The veil in its current form protects you from being swept underneath the waves, so to speak. Hydaelyn, I would assume, used the Mothercrystal not unlike an anchor of her own - one singular focus point, rather than the many scattered about you are used to.
[ Gingerly, he stretches out threaded shadows of power, feels the answering hum as he strums over anchors placed countless centuries ago. ]
'Tis weaker than on the Source, though the Source's aetherial sea is, I believe, still somewhat influenced by vestiges of Hydaelyn's magics.
FOOD FOR ME THO also sorry viktor you're dating a dick
More than that, though. Emet-Selch simply wants to know how Viktor perceives the sensation of being tethered, what his untrained senses tell him about the expanse laid out before them. The previous Emet-Selch had brought him down without any of the same safeguards, let him foolishly think he could handle the Underworld as he was, and only mocked him a little bit when he'd woken up three days later, still aching like he'd been tossed about against rocks in a running river. Foolish boy, she'd said, peering down the line of her nose at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. She'd been right, of course; she was more often than not.
The horizon, Viktor answers, and Emet-Selch tilts his head, considering. ]
You can feel most of it. [ Impossible, not to be a little condescending, though he tries to temper that condescension a little bit, accepting the tighter grip on his hand, thumb idling over Viktor's knuckles in response. ] I would not recommend attempting to immerse yourself - physically, or otherwise, within the Underworld.
[ Faintly, there is the barest whiff of old, wry embarrassment. ]
To do so would result in. Well. Nothing we have time for currently. The veil in its current form protects you from being swept underneath the waves, so to speak. Hydaelyn, I would assume, used the Mothercrystal not unlike an anchor of her own - one singular focus point, rather than the many scattered about you are used to.
[ Gingerly, he stretches out threaded shadows of power, feels the answering hum as he strums over anchors placed countless centuries ago. ]
'Tis weaker than on the Source, though the Source's aetherial sea is, I believe, still somewhat influenced by vestiges of Hydaelyn's magics.