[She doesn't argue with him, but she doesn't entirely agree to those terms. She's certainly not going to hurt him just to keep him from wandering. There's no sense in that, unless he turned on her.
Unless...he's done that to someone else, and knows it. Hm.
She listens to his appraisal of the situation, a familiar refrain. He knows this world so, so well. Better than anyone she's ever met, frankly, and everything he says, she takes note of, even if some of the news isn't so heartening. Of course, everything will return to the familiar, even if the familiar is still wrong, and brutal.
But his tone stays that way. Flat, barren. Professional, some would say.
In the time she listens, she drinks in his appearance too, and it's impossible to miss that wreath of Fog around his neck. Javert had similar, when she met him briefly in his office to speak of the Fog herself, and what following her meant to the jaded old vampire. What was the Fog, and what did she encapsulate in her being, and how did this meaning mete itself out to her Followers?
Atem wanted to be safe, and cloaked himself in Fog, it seems.
Her gaze tracks the wisps of it about his neck when she finally responds. It's ethereal, regal. It would suit him, if the context weren't predicated on an awful creature's single-minded crusade against humanity.]
You've engaged with this world on a level I never will, Atem. You're wearing proof of it right now.
[A beat.]
Did you find the safety you were looking for?
[Did he find it in her, the god who brought them here in the first place?
It seems rhetorical to ask, when he talks about how his autonomy is at the mercy of the strange effects many other monsters are enduring right now. But she asks all the same.]
no subject
Unless...he's done that to someone else, and knows it. Hm.
She listens to his appraisal of the situation, a familiar refrain. He knows this world so, so well. Better than anyone she's ever met, frankly, and everything he says, she takes note of, even if some of the news isn't so heartening. Of course, everything will return to the familiar, even if the familiar is still wrong, and brutal.
But his tone stays that way. Flat, barren. Professional, some would say.
In the time she listens, she drinks in his appearance too, and it's impossible to miss that wreath of Fog around his neck. Javert had similar, when she met him briefly in his office to speak of the Fog herself, and what following her meant to the jaded old vampire. What was the Fog, and what did she encapsulate in her being, and how did this meaning mete itself out to her Followers?
Atem wanted to be safe, and cloaked himself in Fog, it seems.
Her gaze tracks the wisps of it about his neck when she finally responds. It's ethereal, regal. It would suit him, if the context weren't predicated on an awful creature's single-minded crusade against humanity.]
You've engaged with this world on a level I never will, Atem. You're wearing proof of it right now.
[A beat.]
Did you find the safety you were looking for?
[Did he find it in her, the god who brought them here in the first place?
It seems rhetorical to ask, when he talks about how his autonomy is at the mercy of the strange effects many other monsters are enduring right now. But she asks all the same.]