dpscheck | shadowbringers

[ ooc: open to pretty much anything- also this is a voice test while I get into the character in question ♤ also spoiler friendly as completed msq ]

Edited 2019-07-11 11:08 (UTC)

[He's come back to the place where it feels like everything in his world changed in an instant. To sit in silence, staring up at the murals that spoke of the destruction of a being, the rise of another. Hydaelyn... a primal. A primal. One knee is pulled up, an arm wrapped around it and his chin resting on it as he stares. Thinks. Remembers. Feels.

So many things She told him to do. Now, in his heart, he wonders how much of it is a lie. If She is a primal, then is he... tempered?

The thought is, in so many ways, deeply disturbing to him, as disturbing as the idea of Her being a primal is in of itself. His eyes close, just dark pools of black eyelids, as a sigh escapes him. What does it all mean, in the end? What is the truth?

Deep down, he knows that it's exactly what Emet-Selch wants. For him to question everything. For better or worse. The last thing he wants to be doing is anything an Ascian wants him to do and yet-

Here he is.

Doing exactly that.]

[ Faith without questioning-- that was something that Emet-Selch had never had to question; after all it was an Ascian's very nature to question-- their society had been made up of questions and those in turn that seeked answers, knowledge was a vast thing and -- to his own world and remembrance, the choice on Zodiark had been made only when all other hope had been utterly exhausted. It had not been a thing of faith that had summoned Zodiark but rather a keen-edged survival.

But aye, that was perhaps just as good as any faith-- a man would many things in order to preserve the existance of that which he loved, include summoning a primal that asked for far more than what was inherently gained. ]

A wise man once said, "Somebody told me this is the place-- where everything's better and everything's safe."

[ a voice pierced through the darkness, there was a pull and shift and then Emet-Selch appeared, the tendrils of void walking still clinging to him even as he moved toward a rock to lean against it, folding his arms across his chest and looking up at the tableaux of the Primals and the stories that across the ages wise men had immortalized upon the rocks-- there were more such murals scattered everywhere, but more or less; they depicted the same thing. The rise of both Hydaelyn and Zodiark. ]

It seems that on every star, there are murals such as these-- as if the very collective mind of mankind joined together in one single moment of harmony to paint this truth for all who happen upon it to see.

Edited 2019-08-02 11:30 (UTC)

[Was it, though? Or was it the Amaurotians that questioned, that debated, that could recognize other ways and have their minds and methods changed? Ascians are all that are left, and they have all been tempered. It could be suggested that Ascians are as unchanging in their mindsets as any tempered being is, unable to do so, locked to their very own creation and the moment of time when it had been summoned.

What does that say about this Warrior of Light, though? There is still so much he doesn't know and a thousand questions burning in his mind and seemingly, no way to fully know the truth of any of them. All of those questions, all of the answers he might receive, are tinged heavily by the speaker. History is written by the winners and the rest become the villains...

A dark, curved ears flicks back at the voice that breaks the silence of this place, the crawl of the void edging around his senses and creeping into cracks in his aether, banished immediately by the light. All of the light within him itches, strains, hurts, but it's like any injury - you grow used to it. For now. Sigr wonders how long until his very soul cracks under the strain, even with Her blessing.]

Even on the Source? [Sigr's low voice and rolling accent are heavy as he speaks, though there is honest curiosity in his voice. For all that, in truth, he has no idea how many lies Emet-Selch has told them, the frustrating thing is that he isn't sure the other has ever fully lied to them. Not since popping up and claiming to want to see the sights with them on the First (Sigr's no fool to believe that there isn't a real and deep motivation to do something in all of that, though.)

Too many truths with too much punch behind them, all leaving him dizzy and more confused than when he arrived.]

[ For the tempered Ascians, they always remained Amaurotine in nature though it must be said that an Ascians memories of being Amaurotine was for the most part completely idealistic-- and there was a fine line between utopian thoughts and then the very path that led down to a strange sort of nationalism that left other civilizations completely alienated. There was no higher truth than 'all Ascians were Amaurotine but not all Amaurotines were Ascians' ]

even on the Source, after all there are still places on the Source that has not been touched by mankind for ages-- there are still areas that have not seen the light of day since the beginning of the Star. Somewhere amidst old ruins, if you search ere long enough, you will find selfsame murals.

[ If you delved deep into the core, you would find them-- testaments to ages that rose and the ultimately and completely fell. He had wandered those ruins many times and there was perhaps not a spot on the Source that his feet had not in some way, shape or form touched. ]

Surely you have questions about all of this? You would be a fool if you did not-- and I had not pegged you for a fool, Sigr.

[ oh, he did not sell Sigr short at all-- he knew the potential that lay within the Hrothgar, swirling along with the light in a dance of power-- who would win? The ceaseless Light or the overwhelming potential. At this point, the scales were at a balance but it was anyones game what could happen in those moments. It was almost as much as a gamble as to be interesting to the Ascian, fascinating really ]

[It's surprising how not surprised he is to hear there's still untouched places on the Source. The Source is massive, without the Flood to contain it all to a relatively small area. Even if there are so many more people on the Source, it doesn't matter. Things are hidden - on purpose, by accident, by Calamity. He wonders, though, if the murals would be the same there. If ancient people had seen this event and depicted it, each in their own way.]

And yet, if I told you the same story about how I fell down a flight of stairs in the Rising Stones, my story would be slightly different than Tataru's telling of it... and that happened only two weeks before I arrived here. Something that happened millenia ago? ...Two people cannot see the same thing through the same eyes.

[His eyes flick up to Emet-Selch on purpose. They are only getting his side of the story about all of this, after all.]

Of course I have questions. You know I do. [However, the corner of black lips pull back into a smirk, unable to help himself.]

For example, do you wear smallclothes under all that?

[He very well might be a fool. His ability to stay joking through everything has remained very well in tact, regardless of the transfer to a new world and some reality-shattering implications from the not-quite-a-man beside him.]

Yes, history is completely subjective-- the victors write the history and the losers fall into ignominy, and their civilizations fall to ruins and dust amidst the pages of time-- but they always do share core truths that stay the same, no matter who views them or not--

[ he watches the Hrothgar because he is expecting something, anything-- since they were having such a philosophical debate here, over the span of course of time and exactly what that entailed-- however as he heard the next words come out of the Hrothgar's mouth, a very brief bit of confusion forced it's way to the forefront. ]

You are asking about my.. smallclothes?

[ that question was the most ridiculous question that had ever been posed to him, however his eyes started to sparkle and then he brought his gloved hand to his mouth, covering it lightly to prevent the laughter, or even so that Sigr could only see a hint of that smile that threatened to break out ]

A true gentleman never reveals what he is wearing underneath his robes, did you not know that?

[ but the chiding was only lightly teasing, if he had been less than amused he would of probably rolled his eyes and huffed out ]

[Oh, though Emet may be the master of many things, the holder of a knowledge lost otherwise to time and age and death, an ancient being of untold and unimaginable power-

Sigr reaches up and draws a line in the air. One for him. He knows he caught the Ascian with that one.]

Yes, which is why I asked it of you.

[Yes, suggesting Emet is not so much a gentleman.]

I know I'm not. [There is a tilt of his head in Emet's direction, a flash of fang in a grin. It could almost be said he might, just might, be flirting with the enemy... quite literally.

Maybe it's an attempt to get one back for the incredible blow Emet had dealt to his mental landscape that had led him to sitting here, staring at paintings as ancient as the world.]

[ That caused a light chuckle to expell from Emet-Selch's lips, oh how this was amusing to him, never let it be said that the Warrior of Light was boring-- perish the thought. It was a good thing that someone did keep him in check though, and Emet-Selch took things seriously-- at least the things that needed to be taken seriously. This situation did not fall into that particular scope ]

Well then, if neither of us are gentlemen then I guess there is absolutely nothing to do about it-- though I suppose I am what you would say a 'gentleman' in the streets.. and perhaps something else quite entirely in the sheets'

[ two could play that game of flirtation-- and Emet-Selch was no stranger to such games, he had centuries of practice after all, and Sigr was the more interesting of the Light's Chosen to date-- so there was that as well ]

[Within Sigr has been a deeply conflicting series of feelings when it comes to the Ascian. First, Ascian. Enemy. That is something he can never forget. He's seen the horrific things those fellow Ascians have done and given what Emet-Selch has admitted to already, he falls into a similar category. Literally the opposite of everything he is. An immortal to his mortal self. Dark to light. Uncaring about life to wanting to save all that he can. (The latter... he understands the least, at times.) Second, old grumpy man with a flamboyant streak. Not that he... looks old, just is old, though how old Sigr has no real way of knowing just ooooold. Third, frustratingly good looking. Maybe in need of a few good nights of sleep in a row and a run in the sack to remind him of what it is to be a good old mortal soul, but still. Annoyingly good looking. Third eye and all.

Which makes him think-]

What about you? [His tail tip flips over, tapping on the ground with those long strands of black hair.] Surely you have questions, too.

[His tone is innocent, as if merely repeating back what Emet said previously to him (if in a less mocking manner) but his eyes, those tell a different story. They're a mis-matched play of both serious and flirting. The other always tells them to question, asks them things but it's always in a hypothetical way. What actual questions lie in the Ascian's mind? Is he capable of simple things - flirting? Fun? Silliness? Playfulness?]

[ funny because at times that was all Emet-Selch did do was sleep-- certainly aside from the wanderings throughout the first to see exactly how changes were wrought upon the Star, he would find a quiet place to just nap-- that was the key number one way of staving off the infernal boredom of being alive for a near milleninum-- one could only see so much change-- humans could only discover fire so many times before it just seemed rather overdone. Human ingenuity touched him, but he had seen it all before. The glorious rise and then the equally catastrophic and tumultuous fall. He never truly dreamt though, he sank into memories; occasionally he would find something to be amused by; either the sound of his own prosaic back and forth or something new and delightful-- though over his many lifetimes, the thrill of firsts had died down into a glorious pit of ennui.

So it was almost a surprise with Sigr-- and for a brief moment, he felt some life flow into him, some sincere life; and amusement. He lived on the feeling of amusement and he clung to the novelty-- it kept out the wretched thoughts that seemed to spin around in his mind and refuse to stop-- so if there was a chance at levity, jaded soul that he was-- he would seize upon it.

In essence, perhaps Sigr was doing him a favor.

He shrugged a bit, though his lips managed to quirk-- and if he knew that Sigr found him even remotely attractive-- that would've appealed to a much baser side to him-- but maybe he still had somewhat of an idea, and that was intriguing to say the least. Perhaps he'd have to endeavor to be a little more entertaining in terms of company; complying could do nothing but stave off boredom-- and hurtling toward the Rejoining had thus far proven to be tedious. ]

I always have questions, my delightfully furry friend-- and since you've asked such an amusing one, I feel that it's only fair that I rise to the occasion.

[ Evil ascian plans were always on the menu; incessantly so. But there was a part of Emet-Selch that appeared to almost 'be' human, what with statements left ever so vaugely that there was some part of him that was envious of the human expirience, and also perhaps a little bit saddened by it as well. Perhaps it was because back when time began for him, the Amaurotines did display human like characteristics, they did love-- they had families, they debated with friends and read books underneath trees on particularly lovely days

This was perhaps the first sign of 'life' that has come from Emet-Selch with the exception of rightous indignation ]

How serious of an offense is it to pull your tail?

[ the thwap of the tail against the stone floor had certainly not escaped his notice ]

Edited 2019-08-08 20:52 (UTC)

[There is, or would be if Sigr knew, something very strange in the concept of an Ascian even having a baser side. After all, until they met Emet, the only time they had any spoken connection with the Ascians has been one preaching high and mighty about lofty goals or insulting them. This conversation, in the here and now, is the most mortal conversation he ever had with one.

His brows lift at the returned question, and for a moment he puzzles over how to respond before deciding, what the hells. Not only had Emet not just vanished back into the darkness or given him an eye roll and a droll answer, the other had responded in more ways than just the vocal. So, why not go for more?

Sigr rolls a shoulder in a shrug, giving a pointed thwap of his tail again before commenting.]

Much like pulling hair, it all depends on the context.

[Let Emet chew on that. If Sigr is being honest with himself, he's more curious about if the other even gets the double entendre.]

[ Sigr would find that as far as Ascians went, Emet-Selch was probably the most human out of the entire bunch, but that was perhaps he had lived among them. Yes, he had done some truly atrocious stuff but that was human-like, he would argue above all else. He had also experienced the sublime, he had taken joy in fatherhood when it had been ripped from him entirely too fast, he had perhaps not exactly loved but at the very least been fond of certain mortals and he had engaged in dalliance-- oh, he was no stranger to that-- if Sigr wanted to participate in this flirting, he would rise to the occasion. ]

Oh, ever have I been fond of 'hair-pulling'-- if timed in the right moment, it can inspire the most delightful reactions.

[ And then almost as a afterthought, moving over to one of the rock walls where the murals were painted, though he was not precisely 'looking' at the murals right now-- but at the Warrior of Light. No talk of tedious things at this moment, it was almost as if the Hrothgar was enjoying a moment of being human-- oh, he supposed that the other man was still under Hydaelyn's will but this subject was almost safely in the middle, beyond worlds sundered and primals dancing ]

Though as Emperor Solus, very few dared to pull my hair--

[ and then just because Emet-Selch wanted to see how far he could go, he stepped closer until he was just suddenly there, and then he very lightly nudged at Sigr's thwapping tail with the toe of his boot. He did not tread on it, but just growing awareness that he had placed himself in a position of proximity ]

Edited 2019-08-10 14:50 (UTC)

[So the Ascian is capable of knowing such things. That makes this part even so much more fun. An ear swivels, following Emet's movement in and out of his sight, even as Sigr 'relaxed' and leaned backwards on his palms. It also seems that the other has a bit of a streak in him.

...He could have lived without the reminder about Emet being a giant lie behind the Garleans, but, well, it isn't untrue what the other said. Though that sounds like it would have been very boring sex-

Then, suddenly, he can feel that boot against his tail. It instinctively makes his tail pull away, no one wants to get stepped on, but it also let Sigr lean back just a bit further so he could tilt his head back and look, slightly upside down, at Emet-Selch, both ears forward and listening intently.]

Hair or tail pulling, outside of the bedroom, is less than pleasant, and I think you know that. [His tail oh-so-accidentally flips again, the long strands of black falling across Emet's boot.] Given that both are considered intimate. Besides... in the bedroom, everyone is equal.

[Even Emperors and ancient all mighty beings.]

[ The need to positively combat boredom-- oh sure, twas near unendurable how entertaining it was to drop truth bombs upon the Scions left and right however this was a different feeling entirely, this was vastly more human in nature and it breathed life into him-- it was the same life that had him walking down different paths from his fellow Ascians, taking a more mortal approach. Mock the human expirience? He would invariably do that-- but even he could not deny that there was a poignancy to it

His eyes glance down at Sigr and perhaps the Hrothgar can see the shade of his smile, ever tilting upward, though a shade wicked. But not in a particularly villanesque way; it was just a play on how very entertained he was in this moment shared between them ]

So.. if I reachedy fingers down and curled my fingers into your fur and just every so lightly tugged, would that count as outside the bedroom?

[ it seemed as if someone had just given Emet-Selch a bit of fire to play with, and he was no stranger to dancing on a matchstick's end--

There sadly was nothing he could do about the tail starting to thwap indolently against the shine of his boots-- except to raise his foot up, letting the tail ride against it as if it was a temporary acting see-saw ]

Edited 2019-08-11 15:14 (UTC)

[Sigr hides down the flare of surprise that comes, that Emet-Selch is so willingly to actively flirt back at him, that a man of Garlemald and a man of the darkness even has such a real playful side. Is it? Or all trick? How far can it be pushed? ...Now he wants to know.]

Mmm... perhaps intent has as much meaning as location.

[He reaches up, leaning back on his other paw, and calmly runs his claws through the mentioned hair, turning it into a slow stretch meant to be allll visual at that point before he glances back up.

Thwap Thwap. The tip of Sigr's tail is rarely at rest, like any good cat, but now it's pure entertainment.]

[ Emet-Selch was capable of tricks however in this moment he decidedly wasn't, oh of course not-- the novelty of this was actually more amusement then should rightfully be had in this point in time. Ah, if his fellow Ascians could see him now, they'd probably be tsk'ing.

Or they would not be surprised at all-- really it was a roulette wheel where his brethren were concerned and with that segue he attempted to push them far out of his mind; he would after all 'do what he wanted' irregardless of what opinions they held. And he was almost tempted to reach down, see if he could feel the fur underneath his fingertips. His eyes sparkled with mirth, all honey and light even though there was no true light here in the ruins of the Quintana Ravel. ]

I had a cat once upon a time in Garlemald, and I seem to recall how they purred right when I stroked them right behind their ear-- do you purr?

[ Oh yes, this was flirting, most decidedly ]

[There it is again, that oddly human touch among all of the rest of Emet-Selch's impossible, ancient, immortal ways. A pet cat. ...A cat that wouldn't have given a damn about all of those fancy thins because cats believed themselves above all others-]

You are a cat. [Amused, Sigr speaks with the tone of someone certain about their words and malms of amused by it.] But like any cat, to find out if they purr, usually they need to be pet.

[Matched by his tilting his head, bringing his shoulders down, that hint of a fang showing in his grin.] We don't just purr on command, after all. No more than you would show up if we asked you to.

Touché--

[ Emet-Selch was not afraid to admit that he had a mortal instance of a life, one actually of many as he just couldn't resist what could only be an Ascian form of roleplay- where put himself in a body not his own and traipsed his merry way, enjoy the glory and the the trials that humanity had to offer. Most certainly a conundrum.

And how astute of Sigr to point out that perhaps the Ascian was a cat, that certainly would of been fitting-- though a pampered house cat more like it, certainly nothing within Sigr's caliber.

He finally decides to put action to this conversation, to see how it would go. His fingers slowly fall down and then his thumb manages to just brush a tuft of fur just behind Sigr's ear, and if it were not him doing this to someone with no doubt 'very' sharp senses, it likely wouldn't of been felt at all. He remembered how if he placed his hand just right, the cat would greedily lean into the touch

This was all for research, of course ]

Edited 2019-08-17 13:55 (UTC)

[It does precisely as Emet would hope, at least within the Hrothgar. That simple touch, when he's already keyed up as anyone might be with an enemy behind them, sends a shiver straight down his spine until his fur all but ripples. Visibly, his ear immediately flicks back, like it might react to a bug having landed there.

Just how far are you willing to take this? Sigr asks himself, realizing that he's pushing the boundary second by second and the Ascian is following him right over every line he chooses to cross. In the oddest way, he knows if he stopped, so would the other. How he knows that? He really couldn't say. Maybe because they've seen some strange sense of honor in the other, or maybe because he thinks it would be boring for Emet-Selch if he isn't leading the way down that dark path.

That knowledge, either way, gives him more courage than he'd care to consciously realize and lets him give a slow yawn, displaying fangs and slightly rough tongue, before his jaw closes and his eyes open again and he looks up to Emet-Selch, waiting.

Is that all?]

[ Sigr had the right of it-- the Ascian did have honour though it was a certain vein of it that was wholly Emet-Selch's brand. Overtake nations-- subjugate the masses; but when it came to the personal dance between two people; he believed firmly that it should be a dance, and that if the person did not care to dance then one should simply chose another partner with which to dance with. Though Emet-Selch's dance card had been filled many times and by many different partners, if one did not choose to dance-- he would not force them to dance.

Maybe dance a little bit more flamboyantly to show the other person what they were missing but when it came down to it-- he respected any decision that was made, no matter how much he tended to deride the human expirience-- he knew that those traditions were of great import.

Funny that he should respect that.

However once he saw that his hand hadn't been bit off, he allowed his gloved fingers to very lightly scritch right behind the ears, granting a bit more firmness to the touch than had existed previously, though his fingers massaged and gained a bit more certainty-- though his ears were on the lookout for perhaps the gift of a purr, to see if having a cat had taught him his lesson.

Though a Hrothgar might be a tougher act to follow then a mere haughty house cat ]

[Sigr's just accepted that Emet-Selch can be so flambouyant and downright hammy that he's in danger of starting a pork-aspect calamity. It's pretty clearly just who the man is, in some bizarre fashion.

As it is for now, he's quietly accepting the touch behind his ears, a spot that many lovers - and sometimes people whose lap he's plopped his head onto - have enjoyed in the past. Really, Emet is missing the best part of it because of his gloves, unable to feel the silken fur there where black and white strands meet. Still, his eyes slide shut and he leans back into it, chin up, that almost typical feline 'pleased, you may continue' pose as his tail goes still except for the slowest sway at the tip.

But it'll take more than just that to be gifted with the honor of his purr.]

[ His fingers were soft and gentle as he lightly stroked the fur there though yes, the fabric of gloves certainly did keep him from feeling the silk however his hands 'were' warm (perhaps the reason why he wore gloves, all that creation magick that was focused solely within his hands and rendered them very warm to the touch, and also giving off a faint tingle-- the gloves a reminder of distance needed). He was almost fascinated by the hrothgar, the sway of that tail that bespoke contentment with it's languid sway.

Emet-Selch had no home to speak of however there was a part of him that enjoyed this, because it reminded him of a very fleeting and intangible home--- with a cat laying just in front of a grand fireplace. A good book, wine and if one could block out Varis and Zenos' constant bickering going down the halls, it could almost be considered 'home' to him, of sorts.

Perhaps Emet-Selch had come here to wax poetic on ancient empires and primals, however he certainly had not expected this. And so he slowly lowered himself to the ground, sitting right down beside Sigr, and then just enjoyed the act of petting-- in a way, he could forget those very same things in this very simple act of rhythmic stroking ]

How do you keep your fur so soft? What is your secret?

Edited 2019-08-21 11:03 (UTC)

[Is it so true that mortals, capable of developing such luxuries as a good book and wine, who could befriend fickle creatures such as felines, are so worthy of being sacrificed again and again to bring back others? Was imagination not worthy of something? Someone had believed in them, enough to counter the plans of the Fourteen. To realize being tempered, to realize the good things that could be done, and yet to only work towards their demise... Emet-Selch believed that the Amaurotions were the stewards of the planet and it should return to that, and yet, the life on the planet was being stewarded to do horrible things that would only ensure the planet's destruction... could his irony in his statements not be seen?

And now, seated side by side, like equals, two beings sat in an old mortal past time - pet the kitty.]

Ah, but a secret told is no longer a secret. [Sigr's voice is noticeably deeper, rougher at the edges. Might that be the beginning of the sought purr?] You, of all people, enjoy holding a good secret after all.

[His eyes crack open, just enough to see some of the situation beside him without moving his head to- oh, no, right there, shift of the head to get Emet-Selch's fingers in a better spot- why not just go for it?

His paw comes up and he puts it on the other's knee, thumb rubbing in a circle.]

[ Emet-Selch was chaotic enough that he could not duly answer that question, it was one of those instances where he knew he was fond of mortals, of observing them and their ingenuity, their fragile human existance and how they seemed to rise above it-- yes, perhaps the weak did strive to be weaker, but then there were the vibrant roses struggling to breathe against the rot of the earth, struggling and fighting to grow and flower.

Just as the Garlean empire had struggled to survive (and oh did he have a fond spot in his heart still for the empire, for the true testament of to a survivor's will that pushed it ever onward), so did Eorzea and Noverant. And then at the center of that, was Sigr. It almost impressed his jaded bitter heart, though it was not quite to that point yet and he wasn't too keen on ruining his reputation by admitting to any hint of softness toward humanity. ]

I do like my secrets, though perhaps I shall a secret of mine own with you in exchange for the secret of your lustrous locks?

[ a secret for a secret, though Emet-Selch was not going to specify what manner of secret it would be-- by all rights and purposes, it would not be precisely enjoyable if one knew exactly what one was getting into with the telling of a secrets-- guess Sigr would be the one to accept that bargain if he so choose.

And then the Ascian allowed his fingers firm quite a bit more, and then at the touch, he let out a chuckle, a soft testament to the sheer unexpectedness of it, he could even feel the barest hint of claws, it was almost a reminder that Sigr was the one in control here-- and Emet-Selch was perfectly content with that.. for now. ]

Solus zos Galvus ♤ OTA

SPOILERS ARE ALL OVER THIS

Re: SPOILERS ARE ALL OVER THIS

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ahahahahahahah oh my gosh I am kilt

Ha, Emet is for once caught unawares! Sigr: 1 Emet: ...like a 1000 but Sigr tries

Re: Ha, Emet is for once caught unawares! Sigr: 1 Emet: ...like a 1000 but Sigr tries

Re: Ha, Emet is for once caught unawares! Sigr: 1 Emet: ...like a 1000 but Sigr tries

TOTALLY living for this rn

It's amazing. XD I love it.

Have fun responding to this one

Oh I did :3

This is positively delightful

I'm glad you're enjoying it. I know I am!

Re: I'm glad you're enjoying it. I know I am!

Re: I'm glad you're enjoying it. I know I am!

I think I may just LIVE for Sigr-- seriously

Awww! <3 we already know everyone lives for Eme-oji.

Sigr is so right-- Emet-Selch is kinda honorable

In his... VERY odd way, yes.

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