There's already been a misstep in the presence of carefully maintained control, by the loud, rumbling growl that rises, a sound that seems to shake the air and very bones with its angry threat. "Those who know nothing should say nothing." The words are ground out one at a time between clenched sharp teeth, the urge to rise and put Elidibus in his place beneath his claws for the moment struggled down into little more than a slow, irritated thud of tail against the floor and ruffled feathers. "Ignorant wretch, has wearing a mortal shell been so corruptive that every thought of logic or reason has leaked out of your head? If this is what merely wearing flesh does to you in such a short span of time, mayhap we should rid you of it and such blinding stupidity with it."
Every word is a rebuke, etched with promise and surety, the gift of treats shunned with little more than a disregarding glare. He can at least still speak, even if it's with the tenuously controlled fury of an offended dragon. "I expect better of you." The chisel is gestured with, a sharp and jagged angry motion. "When one struggles with distracted thoughts, one finds something with which to focus those thoughts. It is not the end result which is of primary concern, or even tertiary concern! But if you dare question my clarity, pray let me put such delicate work aside so I may turn my attention to peeling you out of your sneering hide instead." How much is Lahabrea's unpredictable temperament and how much is the boiling instability of the full moons is at serious question, and he himself is not being forthcoming with any distinction. Attempting to call him out on anything that smelled like a lie might be unwise for the next few days.
His glare lingers for a long, long silent moment, as if outright daring Elidibus to question it further before very deliberately turning back to the work he's given himself, carefully chipping away at the dark stone bit by bit. Their bond, it seems, doesn't spare Elidibus at all from Lahabrea's ire, though that it is for the time only ire and not sudden explosive violence hearkens either to fragile control or some measure of protection.
It's likely for the best that their bond is still fairly muted, at least in comparison of those many who take such things much further and share dreams in the night, else the seething storm of unwelcome emotion might well be extremely unpleasant for the Emissary to deal with on two separate levels. He should be ashamed of the careful waltz around his temper that others must take or risk undeserved or exaggerated retaliation, but he doesn't care. Did he ever care?
The matters of the world and what Elidibus has been up to is not the distraction he'd hoped it'd be, though that might be his own lingering fury and not a lack of interesting or relevant topics to pursue. The lack of aether with which to draw on for a fledgling witch should be alarming, but most new witches also didn't bond with a monster right away, and monsters absolutely were a steady draw on power. Power that should by rights be constantly at the witch's fingertips and eager to be used at all opportunities, negating the risk of early build-up and possible magical explosion. If Lahabrea himself is the reason why there's not enough aether to manipulate.. "In two weeks such a difficulty will reverse itself. How did you attend the last new moon?"
no subject
Every word is a rebuke, etched with promise and surety, the gift of treats shunned with little more than a disregarding glare. He can at least still speak, even if it's with the tenuously controlled fury of an offended dragon. "I expect better of you." The chisel is gestured with, a sharp and jagged angry motion. "When one struggles with distracted thoughts, one finds something with which to focus those thoughts. It is not the end result which is of primary concern, or even tertiary concern! But if you dare question my clarity, pray let me put such delicate work aside so I may turn my attention to peeling you out of your sneering hide instead." How much is Lahabrea's unpredictable temperament and how much is the boiling instability of the full moons is at serious question, and he himself is not being forthcoming with any distinction. Attempting to call him out on anything that smelled like a lie might be unwise for the next few days.
His glare lingers for a long, long silent moment, as if outright daring Elidibus to question it further before very deliberately turning back to the work he's given himself, carefully chipping away at the dark stone bit by bit. Their bond, it seems, doesn't spare Elidibus at all from Lahabrea's ire, though that it is for the time only ire and not sudden explosive violence hearkens either to fragile control or some measure of protection.
It's likely for the best that their bond is still fairly muted, at least in comparison of those many who take such things much further and share dreams in the night, else the seething storm of unwelcome emotion might well be extremely unpleasant for the Emissary to deal with on two separate levels. He should be ashamed of the careful waltz around his temper that others must take or risk undeserved or exaggerated retaliation, but he doesn't care. Did he ever care?
The matters of the world and what Elidibus has been up to is not the distraction he'd hoped it'd be, though that might be his own lingering fury and not a lack of interesting or relevant topics to pursue. The lack of aether with which to draw on for a fledgling witch should be alarming, but most new witches also didn't bond with a monster right away, and monsters absolutely were a steady draw on power. Power that should by rights be constantly at the witch's fingertips and eager to be used at all opportunities, negating the risk of early build-up and possible magical explosion. If Lahabrea himself is the reason why there's not enough aether to manipulate.. "In two weeks such a difficulty will reverse itself. How did you attend the last new moon?"