[ The moment had come where Emet-Selch had almost felt like the Warrior of Darkness' journey had been his journey, however unwelcome the Scions had attempted to make him feel. Attempted was the key word as Emet-Selch knew full well that one could never be made to feel anything if they did not want to feel it-- so with a glib tongue he would parry each verbal attack from them, and sometimes he would riposte one of his own in a mental free-for-all that seemed to enliven him much more then when he had been stuck in Garlemald listening to Father and Son spew dysfunctions hither and thither at each other.
That poison that was flicked back and forth was certainly something to be avoided, and while father and son wanted to blame him for everything, he had only done what had been for the good of Garlemald, and it had not been him that had destroyed it, but them-- and he was even beyond worrying about it right now.
The one person that didn't seem to rise up to his words seemed to be the Warrior of Darkness herself and it was she who he watched ever closely, more closely then he had ever watched anyone before.
Most of the time he watched her where she couldn't sense it. Mainly from the aether-stream where he went to hide; not quite the Lifestream but neither was it the Void either, but perhaps a middle ground between soul and fiend, where he did not have to contemplate too closely on the battle between light and dark.
To be sure, he already knew the path he walked-- he did not need constant and ever reminders of it in his sanctuary. It was his resting point; there had been a few times when he had observed her with her noticing, those times had had been before she had known who he was and certainly before he introduced himself to the group of Scions.
And 'ere had he very little time to talk to her privately.
Twas not that he was shy but rather that he was taking stock of her, his eyes watching her battle keenly as she waged it against all Lightwardens-- such fire, such spirit-- much to be admired.
It almost gave him hope--
Namless and blasphemous as that hope was when it lodged into his own fragmented soul. Oh, if the other Ascians were to know exactly what thoughts were going through his mind-- but he supposed that was little matter enough.
But he found that perhaps now would be the perfect time to talk to her without the watchdogs of her Scions and so that was how he came to be-- walking right out of the Aether as he was won't to do though he was not intent on surprise. Ah no, he had done that before many a times with the element of ephemeral surprise . If one was seeking cooperation, one must approach from the front as a ally rather then an enemy.
Now to convince her that he was one.
So Ziva would feel that subtle disturbance that signaled his approach, but he was far away enough that she'd have time to mentally prepare herself if she so needed it ]
This is great! You don't have to change a single thing!
That poison that was flicked back and forth was certainly something to be avoided, and while father and son wanted to blame him for everything, he had only done what had been for the good of Garlemald, and it had not been him that had destroyed it, but them-- and he was even beyond worrying about it right now.
The one person that didn't seem to rise up to his words seemed to be the Warrior of Darkness herself and it was she who he watched ever closely, more closely then he had ever watched anyone before.
Most of the time he watched her where she couldn't sense it. Mainly from the aether-stream where he went to hide; not quite the Lifestream but neither was it the Void either, but perhaps a middle ground between soul and fiend, where he did not have to contemplate too closely on the battle between light and dark.
To be sure, he already knew the path he walked-- he did not need constant and ever reminders of it in his sanctuary. It was his resting point; there had been a few times when he had observed her with her noticing, those times had had been before she had known who he was and certainly before he introduced himself to the group of Scions.
And 'ere had he very little time to talk to her privately.
Twas not that he was shy but rather that he was taking stock of her, his eyes watching her battle keenly as she waged it against all Lightwardens-- such fire, such spirit-- much to be admired.
It almost gave him hope--
Namless and blasphemous as that hope was when it lodged into his own fragmented soul. Oh, if the other Ascians were to know exactly what thoughts were going through his mind-- but he supposed that was little matter enough.
But he found that perhaps now would be the perfect time to talk to her without the watchdogs of her Scions and so that was how he came to be-- walking right out of the Aether as he was won't to do though he was not intent on surprise. Ah no, he had done that before many a times with the element of ephemeral surprise . If one was seeking cooperation, one must approach from the front as a ally rather then an enemy.
Now to convince her that he was one.
So Ziva would feel that subtle disturbance that signaled his approach, but he was far away enough that she'd have time to mentally prepare herself if she so needed it ]