I should hope not, or one may mistake this house for one of butchery. [The directness in the man's tone seems to ease Dion's taut stance; there is a familiarity in such idle conversation and idle jests. Not between himself and another, but what he would at least hear among his men.
It is not a bristling he has at the order, but more a comic disbelief. There is no man on Valisthea, he is sure, who could make such a casual demand, without hesitation.
Dion shuts the door, stepping further inside.]
The what? [The bug, full of light, lands on his shoulder. Is that what he means? That word? The syllables sound completely foreign. And one insect is hardly a trifle.
Dion carefully pokes at the creature before it takes flight again, lighting up. For a brief stretch of time, there may be some longing in his gaze. So few will ever know the joy of flight. It is not a feeling he has ever shared. Not, at least, among men who did not attempt to kill him on sight most of the time. War does not offer much time for camaraderie... and Odin did not soar on the effort of his own wings.
Only one --
It is unfortunate how often he feels his head in the clouds now. Commiserating with an insect. Goddess, how completely morbid. He pulls his attention away and back to the scarred man, beginning to unbutton the tight sleeves around his wrists. There is, at least, no armor to remove for him now.] Are you a frequent patron of this place, then? What services would you suggest?
no subject
It is not a bristling he has at the order, but more a comic disbelief. There is no man on Valisthea, he is sure, who could make such a casual demand, without hesitation.
Dion shuts the door, stepping further inside.]
The what? [The bug, full of light, lands on his shoulder. Is that what he means? That word? The syllables sound completely foreign. And one insect is hardly a trifle.
Dion carefully pokes at the creature before it takes flight again, lighting up. For a brief stretch of time, there may be some longing in his gaze. So few will ever know the joy of flight. It is not a feeling he has ever shared. Not, at least, among men who did not attempt to kill him on sight most of the time. War does not offer much time for camaraderie... and Odin did not soar on the effort of his own wings.
Only one --
It is unfortunate how often he feels his head in the clouds now. Commiserating with an insect. Goddess, how completely morbid. He pulls his attention away and back to the scarred man, beginning to unbutton the tight sleeves around his wrists. There is, at least, no armor to remove for him now.] Are you a frequent patron of this place, then? What services would you suggest?